


Seeds of Dissent

by DaronwyK



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Death Eater Politics, Dubious Morality, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-11-27 15:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaronwyK/pseuds/DaronwyK
Summary: DH AU: Death Eaters find the Granger home before Hermione is able to send her family away. All of her secrets torn away, she has to find a way to survive, even if it means finding an ally in the most unlikely of places. A dark Lumione.





	1. An Impossible Choice

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi guys. This is going to be a slightly darker Lumione. There are changes to the timeline at the end of HBP, mostly shifting Dumbledore’s death from the 30th to earlier in June. Consider this your only content warning for dub-con, graphic violence, referenced sexual assault, and general dark themes. Without further ado, please enjoy.

****

o.o.O.o.o

June 17th, 1997

 

 

Hermione had waited too long. She should have moved her family sooner and been long gone before the Death Eaters found them. The recriminations and desperate thoughts circled through her head as she was dragged down a darkened hallway. Her bare feet scraped against stone, as she scrambled for purchase. She was blind folded and gagged, her jaw ached painfully as the cloth cut into the corners of her mouth.

 

She’d waited too long and now her parents were dead. It was her fault. Worse, her own fate was hanging by a thread. A very large part of her brain didn’t want to think about why she was still alive, and what they wanted from her. She screamed against the gag as she was thrown down onto the ground, pain lanced through her knees as they slammed into the floor.

 

“Take off the blindfold and gag. No one here should have anything to fear from this creature.” A raspy voice commanded and then she could suddenly see again.

 

She was on her knees in front of a man that could only be Lord Voldemort. Calling him a man was stretching it though; he looked more serpent than human, twisted and gruesome. The gag was removed and she reached up to massage her sore jaw. Her defiant attempt to stand was thwarted with a vicious kick behind her knee, and she was sent crashed back down. Tears streamed down her cheeks, stinging at the tender skin from earlier when she’d cried for mercy for her parents. There hadn’t been any for them. There wouldn’t be any for her now, she knew that.

 

“I trust you understand the gravity of your situation.” Voldemort approached and reached down, tipping her face up with bony fingers. It was more like a talon than a hand.

 

“What are you going to do with me?” she managed to ask. After everything she’d seen tonight, she almost wished for death.  

 

“Whatever I please,” he said and then there was a sharp stabbing pain that lanced through her head.

 

She couldn’t look away from those horrible red eyes, and she could feel him forcing his way into her mind. She cursed her stupidity for meeting his gaze. Nothing was spared as he rifled through her memories, walking boldly through her interactions with Harry and Ron. He saw the fake Horcrux and the rage that boiled through the mental connection was terrifying. His search became more frantic and spots of black started eating at her vision.

 

Her whole life started flying by at breakneck speed, without any apparent rhyme or reason. In a flash, she was cuddling Crookshanks on her bed in Gryffindor tower listening to Lavender gushing about Ron, wondering how hard it would be to poison the chit so she could get some sleep. Then she was running down the beach, a child of no more than six or seven, squealing with joy as dozens of seashells seemed to appear by magic, conjured up out of the sands at her whim. She waltzed across the floor of the Yule Ball with Viktor, and then she was slapping Malfoy for getting Buckbeak executed. The dizzying journey continued with her cursing the DA parchment, leading Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest, and brewing Polyjuice Potion while Myrtle heckled her for breaking the rules. Finally, it stopped and the hands that had been holding her upright released her.

 

She collapsed down onto the marble, shaking uncontrollably. Her head was on fire and blood was streaming from her nose.

 

“Put her in a cell and make sure no one interferes with her,” Voldemort ordered.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure of what else was said as she started sliding down into unconsciousness. He knew everything now, and it was all her fault.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione woke to the smell of damp earth and near complete darkness. She was lying on a cot of some kind and the blanket was rough and scratchy against her cheek. Her head was still pounding, but she forced herself up and started checking the cell. A tiny sliver of light from the cell door gave her enough illumination to make out the general features of the space, but only just barely. It was small with a bucket in one corner that she assumed was for her bathroom needs, rough stone walls, and a solid wooden door.

 

There was no obvious way out, so she returned to the low cot and sat down in defeat. Here, alone in the dark, there was nothing to stop the memories. They’d appeared in the dead of night, dragging them all from their beds. Crookshanks had escaped out the window, but she had no faith that she’d ever see him again. They’d held her to the ground and forced her to watch as her father was butchered like an animal, and then her mother was raped before being killed. She’d screamed until her throat was raw, fought as hard as she could, but she’d been no match for them.

 

She could still feel Greyback’s hand on the back of her neck, whispering about what he was going to do to her once the Dark Lord had finished with her. About how she’d beg just like her mother had at the end, but he’d never give her that clean an end.

 

She pulled her pajama-clad legs up to her chest and just waited for the end to come.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Being immersed in darkness made judging time incredibly difficult. Hermione had no real sense of how long she’d been locked in the cell. Meals appeared at random intervals, her waste seemed to vanish instantly from the bucket after she used it, but the door never opened. Time seemed to stand still, as if nothing existed but the ever-present darkness. To break the oppressive silence, she’d recite things to herself, potion ingredients, or spell theory mostly. Anything to keep her mind from coming any more unhinged than it already was.  The shaky cadence of her own voice kept the nightmares at bay. She’d talk to herself until her throat was raw and her eyelids were so heavy that she had no choice but to risk sleep. The dreams were horrific, but still nowhere near as horrendous as reality.

 

After what felt like an eternity alone, there was a sound other than the dry rasp of her own voice. A metal clang as a key turned in the lock and the door opened. The sudden flood of light nearly blinded her, and hard hands grabbed at her. The man hauled her up to her feet and out of the cell, a hand roughly groping at her as they pressed through the doorway.  

 

“Move it, girlie.” He growled.

 

As her eyes adjusted, she realized it was Fenrir Greyback dragging her along and her stomach started falling down to her knees. She stumbled along and was taken back to the room she’d been in the night her parents were killed. The sickening metallic smell of blood hit her in the face and clung to the back of her tongue.  It instantly brought back the memory of her father’s death, and she felt sick. There were dozens of robed and masked Death Eaters standing in a semi-circle around a man on his knees.

 

She recognized him long before she saw his face, the spill of long platinum hair unmistakable. Lucius Malfoy was kneeling, supporting himself with one hand on the floor, breathing hard. Hermione was so absorbed with watching him, that the hard shove Greyback gave her made her tumble down, her knees falling into a puddle of tacky blood. Lucius’s head was bowed, looking unwaveringly at the floor.

 

“Ah, here she is…witches do love to keep us waiting on them,” Voldemort laughed and it was echoed by the masses gathered around them.

 

Hermione’s cheeks grew hot, anger swelling through her.

 

“This is a momentous day for us and for the entire wizarding world. Today, we seized control of the Ministry, and we can now begin to repair the damage done by years of weak, ineffective leadership. The Loyal will be rewarded, and those that have wavered must in turn be punished. Isn’t that right, Lucius?”

 

“As you say, my Lord.” The man ground out, like he was chewing on broken glass. There was a lot of barely leashed rage and bitterness in those few words.

 

“And then there is the question of what to do with those like you, Miss Granger.” The wizard turned his eyes on Hermione. “There are those that feel the only good mudblood, is a dead one. However, I feel that those like you offer an opportunity. While most are a worthless waste of magic, inferior in both skill and power, there are the odd exceptions. Throughout history there have been rare, talented witches that have sprung from the mire of muggle filth. Those witches could be used to strengthen lines that have grown stale and stagnant,” he said, walking around the kneeling pair.

 

Hermione felt bile rising in the back of her throat, and she started shaking her head. It was pretty clear where he was going with this and there was no way in hell she was going to let herself be turned into some kind of…broodmare. Her eyes flicked around the room, looking desperately for any possible escape route. There had to be something, some way of stopping this.  

 

“Now, I’m not an unreasonable man. A witch should always have a choice,” he said and paused while his followers chuckled. “You can either choose to lay with the disgraced, but distinguished Lord Malfoy until he manages to get you with child, or I can give you to Greyback. He’s asked that you been made into the newest member of his pack. I am certain Lucius would much rather you choose the werewolf. So, what is your decision mudblood? Will you spread your legs for my Death Eater and remain a witch…or keep your pride and be turned into an animal? Either way, since I’ve wrung every useful piece of information from your brain, I have no further use for you.”

 

Hermione pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, trying not to vomit. Either way she was epically screwed. There was no doubt in her mind that Greyback would rape her, so choosing him didn’t mean that it wouldn’t happen. Malfoy looked just as sickened at the idea as she was and clearly had…protested the ‘honour’.

 

“If I choose Mr. Malfoy, what will happen to me after?” She finally spoke.

 

“That will be Lucius’ decision, as you will be permanently released to his care once you are confirmed pregnant,” he said. “Your choice, Miss Granger.”

 

“I choose Mr. Malfoy.” The whole situation was completely surreal.

 

“So be it. Lucius, take your prize, sad little creature that she is. Make sure it’s done before morning. The consequences should you disappoint me will be…severe.” The creature made a dismissive motion with his hand, and left the room with the rest of the Death Eaters falling in behind him.

 

Hermione looked over at Lucius who was getting to his feet. He was pale and drawn, the hair that had been so utterly recognizable before, at closer inspection was brittle and tangled. He looked like hell, for lack of a better word.

 

“Get up, Miss Granger. It would be unwise to linger here,” he said, offering her a hand. His face was closed down, nothing betrayed in his expression.

 

Hermione took his hand, but didn’t lean on it as she stood. She had a feeling much of this blood had to be his and he was in worse shape than he let on.

 

“Come with me,” he said shortly and turned to leave the room. He led her out a small door on the left side of the room, and then up a winding set of stone steps. At the top of the spiral staircase, there was a simple wooden door and it opened under his touch. “These will be your rooms for now.”

 

The room wasn’t anything terribly special, but it was comfortable. There was a fireplace, and a slightly overstuffed loveseat set in front of it. Bookcases flanked either side of the fireplace, though her heart twisted to see that they were empty. A door stood open and she could glimpse a bed through there, and another door she assumed led to small bathroom.

 

“How long have I been here?” she asked, turning to look at the man standing there like a statue.

 

“You were taken nearly a month ago, about the same time the Dark Lord liberated his remaining followers from Azkaban. Your friend is in the wind, along with many of his supporters. The attack on you was enough of a warning to send them underground. You are presumed dead,” he said quietly. “I am sorry, both for your parents and for this. It is not my choice either.”

 

“What did he threaten you with?” she asked, hating how the tears welled up in her eyes at the mere mention of her parents. 

 

“Something terrible enough to force my compliance, much like you,” he said simply. “There is a bathroom there if you would like to get cleaned up. I’ll return shortly, once I’ve seen to a few minor injuries.” He gave a shallow bow and left the room.

 

Hermione’s panic level jumped as the door disappeared behind him. She pressed her hands to the smooth expanse of wall and realized that she was trapped. The only way in or out was at his command, which meant this had to be part of Malfoy Manor.

 

She moved back from the wall and after a quick exploration for another door, decided that a shower was probably a very good idea. The pitch of the ceiling made her feel like they were up in almost an attic space, and she wondered at the purpose of this place. The bathroom was clean, but had a sense of age. The cast iron tub had large claw feet and the shower head was mounted above. There was a soft blue nightshirt folded on the side, and a matching house coat hung behind the door. She undressed, and got the water going.

 

Standing under the hot spray was wonderful, as the dirt and grime of her imprisonment was washed away. She refused to think about what was going to happen next, and just lingered under the cascading water. The shampoos and soaps all smelled comforting, the soft scent of vanilla prevailing and clinging to her skin and curls. Reluctantly, she turned the water off and got out. She dried off quickly, nearly jumping as she realized her dirty pajamas were gone. House Elves. Of course.

 

She dressed in the nightshirt, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. She reached for the house coat and belted the soft terry material around her tightly. It wasn’t like she was a virgin and had no idea what was coming, but this was a shitty situation. Deciding she’d hidden in the bathroom long enough, she came back out and saw Lucius was already there. He had a tray with some dinner, a bottle of wine, and two glasses set out on the table. Her meals in the dungeon had been meager, soup and stale bread mostly, so the roast chicken and vegetables were making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.

 

 “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, averting his eyes as she came over to sit at the small table.

 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling the weight of the situation hanging in the air. “Why is he doing this?” she asked, looking up at him as he poured the wine, two very generous glasses.

 

“He believes that half-bloods are infinitely superior power wise to both purebloods and muggleborns,” he snorted and took a generous swallow of his wine. “Your capture gives him the chance to prove his theories, and it’s something else to torture Potter with at a later date. As for why me…it’s yet another humiliation to be layered upon me. One of many.” He shook his head.

 

“Because I’m muggleborn?” She raised her eyebrows.

 

“Because I am happily married with a son your age,” he snapped. “Contrary to popular opinion, I have never been unfaithful to my wife and I hardly harbour a secret fascination with teenage witches.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Forgive me, I have not been sleeping well and my patience is not what I’d like it to be.”

 

“Maybe you should sit down,” Hermione offered, unsure why but she felt a strange twist of compassion for the wizard across from her. He wanted this just a little as she did, and there was some comfort in that. “Is this Malfoy Manor?”

 

“No, it’s an older Malfoy property that the Dark Lord is making use of. The family hasn’t lived in here in over two hundred years.” He settled into the chair, still looking quite uncomfortable. “This was built shortly after the Norman conquest. My ancestors were part of the invading Norman forces, Lucien D’Malfoie rode at the side of William the Conqueror, and helped win the day at the Battle of Hastings. All record of magic has been purged from the official histories, of course, but both side had their wizards and witches to fight beside them.” Speaking about his family history seemed to calm the man, his posture relaxing.

 

“Even the references in the magical texts are sparse,” Hermione said, unable to help her curiosity. Anything to pull her mind away from what was hanging over her head.

 

“There are some family histories I could find for you to read, if you’d like. I imagine you’ll be needing something to occupy your mind,” he said quietly, and just like that the moment was gone. “I wouldn’t normally ask such a thing, but you do have some…experience I hope?” he asked then.

 

Hermione felt her cheeks flush and she managed to nod.   


“I do, not a lot but…yes.” She stumbled over it, the delicious meal now sitting heavy in her stomach.

 

“Thank Merlin for small mercies.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

 

“How will he know if we don’t do this? Can’t we just…pretend we did and call it a night?” she asked.

 

“There are spells that would make liars of us, Miss Granger. I wish there was another way, but there isn’t.” There was a sorrowful expression on his face. “Finish your wine, it’ll make it easier for you at least.”

 

Hermione nodded and finished off the glass, trying to keep her hand from shaking. It filled her with flush of warmth and helped calm at least the worst of her nerves. She wondered if he’d added a mild calming draught to it, seeing that he too appeared more settled.

 

“It’s time.” He stood and offered her his hand, helping her up.

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said quietly.

 

“You’re the only one that can decide that. I won’t force you, but I can promise that nothing better is waiting for you at the hands of Greyback. If you somehow managed to survive a night in his tender care to be infected with lycanthropy, even if the war ended in a week…you’d be an outcast for the rest of your life.” He reached down and tipped her chin up, making her meet his eyes. “I will not hurt you, and whatever happens I will try to keep you safe. It’s not much, but that is as much as I can do.”  

 

Hermione took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay.” She let him lead her back to the bedroom, trying not think about what Voldemort wanted with a baby from the two of them, but hopefully Harry would find a way to end the war before anything happened.

 

“Stop thinking,” Lucius whispered as he pulled her closer, stealing a first kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft against her, asking and not demanding as he shut the bedroom door behind them. It was completely different from her rushed kisses with Viktor or Cormac’s aggressive tactics. His hand wove into her damp curls, and his other smoothed down her back, pulling her against his body.

 

The feel of him against her unfroze Hermione’s own hands, sliding along his sides and feeling the lean muscle under his expensive robes. The taste of the excellent wine echoed in their kiss, and her hands seemed to drift to the buttons of his shirt of their own accord. He broke the kiss, burning his lips along her jaw to taste her throat. Blame it on the wine, or perhaps the month of complete isolation, but right now she just didn’t want him to stop touching her. Every caress made her skin sing and distantly, as her fingers released the last button, she couldn’t help but think that Narcissa Malfoy was a very lucky witch.

 

She tugged the shirt out of his pants and pressed it back off his shoulders, letting it fall discarded to the floor. Her appreciative gaze was interrupted as he caught her in another kiss, this one more demanding as he picked her up, carrying her over to the bed. The mattress was soft under her back as he laid her down, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she realized this was really happening.

 

There was a sharp tug at her waist as he untied her robe, spreading it open. His hand ghosted up her ribs to cup her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple through the material. When he pinched her nipple hard, it pulled a surprised gasp from her lips, breaking the kiss. He smirked down at her, holding her gaze as his hand slipped down, finding the hem of her night gown and dragging it up her thigh. He brushed his fingers over the curls at the apex of her tightly pressed thighs and leaned down.

 

“Open your legs for me,” he whispered.

 

Hermione shivered at the dark tone in his voice, and slowly eased them apart. She didn’t want this, but her body seemed to have missed that memo. He was a bigoted, arrogant, ruthless Death Eater…but sweet Merlin his fingers felt so good. He slipped two inside of her slowly, working them in and out. Her hips began to rock into his hand, unable to help it. She bit her bottom lip as she realized just how wet she was right now, embarrassment flooding through her. She turned her head away, unable to look at him. She didn’t want this to feel good.

 

“It’s alright.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know you wouldn’t do this if you didn’t have to.”

 

“Just get it over with. Please.” Hermione felt tears sting her closed eyes. His pity made it worse.

 

“Okay,” Lucius whispered and shifted, settling between her legs.

 

Hermione heard the rustle of cloth as he undid his pants and felt him settling over her. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see him over her, wanting to pretend this wasn’t actually happening. He pressed against her, sinking slowly inside her. It wasn’t…comfortable, her body not nearly ready for this. When she whimpered, he stilled and reached down to stroke her, trying to coax her to relax a little.  

 

“Shhh, it’ll be ok,” he spoke softly, and only continued when he felt her tension draining away.

 

It wasn’t great, but as he began a steady rhythm, Hermione had to admit that it actually wasn’t that bad either. Her first time with Viktor had been worse, at least Lucius seemed to be reading her body and adjusting to her comfort levels. She hesitantly opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was braced over her, a healing pink slash cut across his upper chest, the angriest portion over his shoulder. His steel grey eyes met hers, and she felt a strange magnetism pulling her in. He reached down and laced his fingers with hers, untangling them from the death grip they had on the sheets. As he leaned down, his hair fell around their faces, a platinum curtain separating them form the world.

 

“We don’t have much choice in this, but we can choose to take what pleasure we can,” he whispered. “He wants to hurt and shame both of us; don’t give him that power.” He squeezed her hand as his thrusts got stronger, hips crashing into hers.   

 

Any response she might have made was lost as he kissed her hard, almost desperately. He soon broke the kiss, head thrown back as he lost rhythm in his thrust, working hard to finish. He came with a low groan, catching himself on his forearms to keep from crushing her as he collapsed forward.

 

Hermione didn’t know what to feel right now, and her emotions circled around her restlessly. He felt him press another soft kiss to her temple and that unleashed the dam of emotion, letting her start to cry. She was shocked to feel him wrap his arms around her and roll them so that she was against his chest. He stroked her back and rocked her slowly.

 

“You will survive this.” He held her tightly, just trying to soothe her.

 

Hermione just cried until she had no more tears. Once she stopped, he gently extricated himself from her and cast some cleaning charms over them and the bed. He pulled the blankets down and tucked her in. She had no idea why he was being so kind, but she didn’t examine it too closely. Maybe this was all some strange dream, and she’d just wake up back in her cell.

 

“Try and sleep,” he said. “Things will look better in the morning.” He stroked her hair again, and gathered his clothes before leaving.

 

Hermione curled into a ball under the blankets and tried to push all of it away. It had to be a horrible dream. The persistent ache between her legs kept her from believing it though.


	2. An Untenable Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you're all still with me.

o.o.O.o.o

 

Disgust. Humiliation. Shame. All feelings that had been mostly foreign to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy during the course of his life. Since the return of the Dark Lord, they had become all too familiar companions. The only thing worse than feeling them himself was seeing those emotions reflected in the eyes of his wife and son. Narcissa hadn’t been able to even look him in the eye since his release from Azkaban, and after last night he doubted his son would either. For all intents and purposes he had raped the Granger girl and there was no way around it. She might not have screamed and begged him to stop, but she had certainly not been entirely willing. A choice between him and being given to Greyback was hardly a choice at all, and her desperate sobs afterward had torn into his tattered soul.

 

Sleep had been impossible after that, her tear stained face haunting him every time he’d tried to close his eyes. He’d showered in near-scalding water leaving his skin raw and bleeding in places, and driven his fist into the cool tile of the shower until the pain had driven back the feelings of self-loathing. He couldn’t continue like this, but he couldn’t see a way out that didn’t spell death for all of them.

 

The edge of desperation had driven him from the Manor, and taken him to Severus’ hovel at Spinner’s End. He’d poured the whole sordid tale out to him, and seen the sallow-faced man nearly recoil in shock.

 

“She wasn’t killed during the attack?” Severus finally spoke unable to help looking slightly ill at the implications. Ever since he’d killed Albus, the Dark Lord had ordered him to keep under the radar. He hadn’t been summoned to any meetings, and had very little news.

 

“No, though I imagine she wishes she had been. They forced her to watch her parents’ deaths and then took her. The Dark Lord tore anything of use from her mind and threw her in a cell until he could determine a use for her.” He threw back the glass of cheap scotch Severus had poured him. It burned, but the spreading warmth was worth it.

 

“There are potions I can brew to…hasten the process, if you need that,” Severus offered after a long silence.

 

“I’ll offer her the choice.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t imagine she’ll be eager to face months of this…I know I’m not.”

 

“Be careful old friend, he’s done this for a reason,” Severus said quietly. “He wants you to refuse.”

 

“I know he’s just waiting for an excuse and if it were only my life at stake, I’d just give it to him.” He shook his head. “She’s just a girl, Severus. I feel like a monster.”

 

“You’re not the only one,” Severus ran a hand through his hair. “It’s an impossible situation, for all of us.”

 

Lucius sighed and let his gaze drift to the fire. Secretly, he wished that somehow Potter would find a way to win, before he was forced past the point of no return with this young witch. He’d long suspected that Severus was playing both sides, but to approach him without surety was suicide. He couldn’t take that risk, not yet. There had to be a way for them both to walk away from this clean, he just needed to think of it.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione woke to warmth and light streaming in from the window. It felt like forever since she’d seen the sun and for a moment she just enjoyed the simple pleasure of its warmth against her skin. Eventually, she forced herself to open her eyes. She pushed the blankets back and looked around the room, not having spent a lot of time examining it last night. The bed frame was metal and tarnished with age, a vanity table sat against one wall, and a tall chest of drawers against the wall beside the large window. She sat up, and ran a hand through her hair. She let out a groan of frustration at the tangled mess that came from sleeping on wet hair.

 

She got up and walked toward the window, making a face as something cold and sticky dripped down her thighs after a few steps. Bile rose up in the back of her throat. Not a bad dream then. She’d seriously fucked Lucius Malfoy last night to avoid being given to Fenrir Greyback. She hurried out of the bedroom, all but running to the bathroom to vomit. Because of her Voldemort knew everything that she and the boys had been planning, Merlin only knew if they were safe. Instead of fighting tooth and nail to escape, she’d just accepted her situation. Rolled over and did what they wanted. It was so weak and pathetic. She hated herself for giving in to the fear and despair.

 

Cold water rinsed the bitter taste out of her mouth, but didn’t help the spinning sensation. She stayed there for a long moment, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. Giving in to this was just letting Voldemort win, and she couldn’t do that. She was Hermione bloody Granger, and there had to be a way out of here. She just needed to find it.

 

“Pull yourself together,” she said staring at her reflection. “You can do this.”

 

After taking time to untangle the rat’s nest her hair had twisted into overnight, she took another hot shower. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn’t chase away the feel of his hands on her skin, or the memory of how he’d made her feel. She pressed her forehead against the cool tile with the spray hitting the back of her neck. That was the real problem, it had felt good and she didn’t want it to. She shouldn’t have liked him touching her, teasing her, or moving inside of her. What did it say about her that she had? That wasn’t a question she really wanted to answer right now. She sighed and turned off the water, getting out with no more answers than she’d had when she climbed in.

 

There was clean clothing laid out for her, a simple sun dress, underthings, and matching slippers. She brushed out her hair, battling the curls into something resembling submission for the moment. Back in the main room, she noticed there were a few things sitting on the small round dining table. She’d missed them in her mad dash to the bathroom.

 

There was a vase of fresh wildflowers, a couple of books, a potions bottle, and a folded piece of parchment. She unfolded the parchment first.

 

_Miss Granger,_

_I’m sorry if I hurt you. The potion is for any lingering discomfort, please take it if you are in need. The House Elves will bring you a meal when you’re ready, just call for Petal and she will serve you. I know this situation is untenable, but I will try to make you as comfortable as I can, under the circumstances. These rooms can only be accessed by me, so you will be safe from the Dark Lord’s other followers. I will try and keep you supplied with reading material, and whatever other amusements I can. If you have specific requests, please ask me when I come tonight._

_~ L.M._

Hermione refolded it and set it aside, picking up the potion bottle and uncorking it to smell the contents. It was very similar to the standard pain reliever they had brewed in class, but with a touch more peppermint. She took a small sip, not honestly needing much. She tucked the bottle away, just in case she needed it later. The thought of food actually turned her stomach a bit, so she grabbed one of the books and went over to sit on the couch. There was no fire in the grate, but it was warm enough with the light streaming in through the four large casement windows. Just as he’d mentioned, this was a history text focused on the magical side of the Norman Conquest. She let herself get drawn in and nearly screamed when something touched her hand.

 

“Sorry, sorry…Miss be needing to eat. Master said Miss needs to eat better.” The little House elf was wringing her hands in worry, a soft peach coloured pillowcase serving as her clothes.

 

“Are you Petal?” Hermione said, as her heart started to come back to normal.

 

“Yes Miss.”

 

“I…something light would be fine, please,” she asked, seeing that the Elf wouldn’t relax until she accepted something.

 

“Right away!” There was an audible *pop* and then Petal was gone. A tray appeared on the table, and Hermione got up to have something to eat. It was a light lunch of soup and buttered rolls, with some tea and few shortbread biscuits on the side. She ate what she could and then went over to the windows, looking outside. There was an edge of a massive stone wall some distance below the window and then for miles all she could see was stretches of heather covered moorland. Blushes of purple were spreading across the landscape, and it really was beautiful in its own way.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Lucius didn’t return to visit Hermione until late that night, slipping in and finding her asleep on the couch. The history text he’d left her was open across her lap, already a fair ways into it. He took a moment to just observe her, relieved that it didn’t look like she’d spent the day in tears. He went over, set her book aside, and reached out to touch her shoulder.

 

Her eyes snapped open, panicked for a moment and then calming as she saw him. She shifted on the couch, sitting up and tucking her legs under her.

 

“Thank you for the books,” she said.

 

“It seemed like the least I could do.” He moved back a bit, not wanting to crowd her. “I thought we should talk about a few things.”

 

“Petal, tea please,” Hermione called, motioning for him to sit on the other side of the couch. “I just wanted to let you know that you didn’t hurt me. So please don’t worry about that.” She was keeping her eyes downcast, fingers fidgeting a little with the couch cushion. “I just wasn’t expecting it to feel good.”

 

Lucius nodded, understanding all too well. He was quiet as their tea appeared with a low table and he fixed his the way he wanted it. He tracked her movements as she added a tiny bit of honey and milk to her tea, filing that away for later.

 

“I told you last night that you have nothing to be ashamed of and I meant that,” he said softly. “I cast a detection spell on myself earlier. The Dark Lord has placed an obscure monitoring charm on us, so he will know if we don’t obey his orders. That leaves us three choices, as I see it: we defy him and pay the consequences, obey him and leave your conception up to chance, or there are potions that can…speed things up,” he said.

 

“What chance? If we’re having sex every night,” her cheeks flushed again. “I’m going to get pregnant eventually.”

 

“How much do you know about magical pregnancies?” he asked, feeling a bit of a headache coming on. Of course, the Medi-witch at Hogwarts didn’t pull the witches aside for the ‘talk’ until the beginning of their final year. At her slightly confused look, he continued. “The birth rate for magical couples is exponentially lower than in muggles. The simple reason is that there are different magical types and not all are compatible. Witches that marry muggles often have an easier time getting pregnant because there is no magic to interfere with conception. Occasionally, you will get a witch and wizard that have naturally sympathetic magic, like Arthur and Molly, but it is exceedingly rare,” he said.

 

“Is there no way to test compatibility?” she asked, head falling to the side.

 

“Not easily, but after a certain amount of time there are spells that can be cast, but they have to be done during sex. To make it more complicated, certain families are known for being difficult to match…like mine,” Lucius said. That had been the reason for generations of only children born into their family. “If we leave things to chance, we buy time for your friend, but we are risking the Dark Lord becoming impatient. Depending on how disparate our magics are, it could be a matter of months or never.” Lucius wanted her to understand that sometimes, no matter how hard couples tried…children just never came of it. Marriages had been ended over such things. Even beyond their situation, it was important information for a witch to have.

 

“You want Harry to win?” Hermione looked incredulous.

 

“The longer the Dark Lord is in power, the worse my family’s situation becomes,” Lucius said frankly. It was a calculated risk to voice his thoughts to her, but the odds that the Dark Lord would search her mind again weren’t terribly high. A little honesty might help make this whole situation between them easier. “It would be better for my wife and son if Potter won. I’d end up back in Azkaban, but perhaps they could have some kind of life.” He sighed. “That would be enough for me.”  

 

“Maybe you don’t have to end up back in Azkaban…” Hermione said, head tilting to the side a little as if she was considering something. “If you helped the Order...”

 

“Even if I told them where this place was, they would kill themselves trying to get in. The Dark Lord requested this property because of its age, and the nature of the wards laid on it,” he said, sympathy clear in his voice.

 

“That’s not what I meant. I know that I’m stuck here until everything’s over, but with Snape killing the Headmaster and turning on the Order, they need intelligence from the inside. If you could help them, maybe Harry could win.” Hermione wiped away a stray tear. “I know Harry, if you can help him…he will stand up for you with the Ministry.”

 

“I’ll consider it,” Lucius said. “I assume that for the time being you don’t want to take a potion?”

 

“Not yet,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around her middle. “We have time, right?”

 

“We have time,” Lucius said and finished his tea. She would require delicate handling, but something told him that she was worth the extra effort.


	3. Always More to Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Definite Warnings For Major Character Death this chapter.

o.o.O.o.o

 

The first few times were the hardest, but not quite two weeks in, Hermione found herself falling into a strange kind of routine with Lucius. Every morning, she’d wake up alone in bed and there would be fresh flowers, a new book, and breakfast waiting for her. He’d vary the nature of the books between History, Alchemy, Arithmancy, and Charms rounding out the selection. She appreciated the effort to help distract her from the reality of their situation. After three days, a small writing table had appeared, stocked with ink, parchment and a generous supply of quills.

 

She’d have her breakfast and shower, before spending the day reading and making notes on things that caught her interest. She hadn’t pushed him about helping the Order again, somehow sensing that hounding him would result in a hard no. Betraying Voldemort was something that had the potential to get his entire family killed, and he deserved time to make that decision on his own. She was learning a lot about the man, small hints appearing in their rather limited interactions.

 

He had a dragon tattoo on his left thigh, a fearsome Hebridean Black. She hadn’t asked, but she assumed it was for his son. There were old spell-damage scars on his left side, a raised spiderweb of white skin and from her own experiences with spell injuries, it must have been horrific when it happened.  He was much fitter than she’d imagined he would be. Her impressions of him when she’d been younger had been of an entitled aristocrat, more used to paperwork than any physical endeavors. His body told a much different tale. It was the body of a warrior.

 

Then there were the things he did to her with that body. Alone in her small set of rooms, Hermione felt her face grow hot just thinking about it. He’d been right that first night; they had to give themselves permission to find whatever pleasure they could. He seemed to have taken her reluctance the first night as a challenge to make her fall to pieces as many times as he could during their forced trysts. She’d never admit it to him, but he was very talented at making her forget her own name. There was a strange kind of freedom in this bizarre situation. Somehow, she knew he’d never share anything that happened between them, and it gave her permission to respond honestly, even to things that she would have been ashamed to under other circumstances.

 

Hermione liked when he was rough with her, like last night when he’d taken her hard from behind. This morning she had shadows of finger-shaped bruises on her hips where he’d dragged her back into his punishing thrusts. She begged shamelessly for it, and Lucius had been more than happy to oblige. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, biting down just thinking about it. She’d never really been one to fantasize all that much, but remembering last night made her rub her thighs together, wondering if they could ever top that.

 

It was getting dark, and she headed over to the windows to watch the sun set over the moor. It really was beautiful, in a desolate kind of way. It was an alien landscape to her, completely removed from the part of England she’d grown up in. Considering her current situation, locked away and isolated, it was fitting. Something about the castle and its surroundings putting her in mind of Jane Eyre, or some other tragic gothic romance. A hard shudder passed through her as she realized that her own ending was very likely to be just as tragic as those books.

 

She blinked as she realized just how dark it had gotten while she was lost in her thoughts. The sky was inky black now, not even the faintest blush remained on the horizon. This had been happening a lot lately, losing bits of time while staring aimlessly into the distance. A strange feeling was twisting in the pit of her stomach, the sense that something was wrong.

 

There was a loud bang as the door was opened forcefully, crashing into the wall. Lucius stormed in wearing his Death Eater robes and threw the white mask aside onto the table. It was covered in blood. Hermione’s eyes went to it, both wanting to know who’s blood it was, and not. The air around him seemed to tremble like the edge of a thunderstorm, something dangerous and wild.

 

“What…,” she started, but he was crossing the floor in determined strides.

 

She found herself stepping backwards, instinctively not wanting to be near him like this, but he was just too quick. As he reached her, he tangled a hand in her hair, and his lips crashed down against hers, hard. Hermione had no choice but to return the furious kiss, her back hitting the wall beside the window. He tasted like magic, the electric feel of it seeping into her skin everywhere he touched her. She felt the top of her dress tear under his desperate hands and rather than frighten her, it sent a thrill racing down her spine. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he lifted her effortlessly, lips searching out her breasts.

 

She buried her hands in his hair, holding on as the wildness of the moment caught her in its grip. She could feel him hard and insistent against her core, separated by only a few flimsy layers of cloth. The sharpness of teeth scraping over her nipple startled a gasp out of her. Fuck, she needed him.

 

“Lucius,” she gasped, begging without words.

 

He wrapped his arms around her and carried her the short distance to the couch. She felt a whisper of magic wrap around them both and suddenly there was only skin, their clothes vanished with a well-placed spell. She only had a moment to linger on that, as he caught her in another blistering kiss. His fingers dipped between her thighs, slipping inside and his thumb brushed against her clit. She moaned and pressed against his touch, only to have him withdraw his hand after a few teasing strokes.

 

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered against her ear. “I need to hear you say it.”

 

“I need you, please Lucius.” She didn’t hold back, her body positively on fire.

 

“You have me, witch,” he said then. He shifted back, watching her face as he pressed into her, torturously slow.

 

With him watching her that closely, Hermione felt incredibly exposed. He settled against her fully, and just stared down at her, bringing a hand up to trace her features with a feather light caress, so very much at odds with the roughness of just moments ago. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over her lips, a light press of skin, before his hips drew back and thrust deeply into her. She cried out as he moved over her, setting a demanding pace. Her nails dug into the lean muscles of his back as he moved, trying to ground herself in the feel of him over her.

 

He slipped a hand between them to stroke her in time to his thrusts. She cried out as he effortlessly tipped her over the edge, his teeth biting into her shoulder and raising her cry to a strangled scream. Her cries seem to spur him on, his body chasing the same ecstasy. Her hand slipped up his neck to bury in his hair, lost in the feel of him and the smell that was just Lucius in her mind. It was something intangible, but reminded her of the dark rush of the ocean somehow. He came with a harsh cry, his ragged breathing the only sound in the quiet of her rooms. She felt him try to pull away after a moment, but she just tightened her hold on him.

 

“Stay…” she whispered, something raw and open in her chest needing the weight of him for just a little longer. She felt him tense in her grip for a moment, and then with a long sigh it was gone. “What happened tonight?” she made herself ask, afraid of the answer, but needing to know.

 

“If not for my questioning your worth, you’d have been given to someone else. I find myself very grateful to have been so utterly wrong.” He spoke against her neck. “Without you, Potter’s grown reckless.”

 

“What are you talking about?” She frowned, trying to make sense of it.

 

“You were given to me because I questioned the Dark Lord about wasting the element of surprise to take you. He claimed you were vital to Potter’s success, and I said he was a fool, that he should have struck against Potter directly before tipping his hand. He…expressed his disappointment in my lack of faith by torturing me first and then ordering us together. Tonight, he was proven right.” Lucius shook his head and came up on his elbow, looking down at her.

 

“Lucius, please. What happened tonight?” Hermione’s throat tightened in fear.

 

“They moved your friend Potter from his family home in Surrey tonight. The Order chose to hold to a plan that Dumbledore had put in place long before his death. The plan was to use polyjuice potion to turn several people into decoys, and split the Order between them. The logic being, I suppose, that if the Death Eaters attacked, they wouldn’t be able to discern which one was the real Harry Potter and give the Order enough distraction to escape,” Lucius said.

 

“But if that plan was in place before Dumbledore died…wouldn’t Professor Snape have known…” She felt a mounting flood of horror. “Is Harry…?”

 

“I don’t know. One of the Potters was killed, as was Alastor Moody and Nymphradora Lupin. Others were injured. There’s no way to be sure who it was that was killed,” Lucius said. “I am very sorry, Hermione.”

 

“No.” Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes and she shook her head. She pushed at his chest, trying to get away, but he held her still. “No, it can’t be…not Harry! Get off me! Let me go!” She beat at his chest, but he just pulled her closer and held her as she sobbed. It couldn’t be Harry, it couldn’t end like this. How could they have been so stupid and reckless?

 

“We won’t know at least for a day who was really killed, if it was Potter or someone else. I will tell you, once we know.” He shifted them, sitting up on the couch and pulling her into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Hermione just turned her face against his chest and cried, clinging to the only source of comfort she had. She didn’t ask who had fired the curse that had killed her friends, because deep down she just didn’t want to know. If it was Lucius…there was no way she could forgive him and because of Voldemort, she had no choice but to trust him. He was all she had now.

 

“I’ll stay the night, if you want me to,” he offered.

 

“Please, I don’t want to be alone,” she asked, needing him more than she cared to examine right now.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

It had been just after dawn, when Lucius finally untangled himself from Hermione’s arms and slipped from her bed. He tucked her back in gently, and pressed a kiss to her temple. She grizzled a little in her sleep, nuzzling closer to the pillow that he’d been using. Her face was puffy from the tears she’d shed last night, and his heart ached for her loss. No matter who had fallen last night, it was likely one of her friends. He was just grateful that he hadn’t been the one to fire the curse.

 

After dressing silently, he paused in the sitting room and vanished the cheerful flowers from their vase, replacing them with a dozen white roses and a few white lilies. Exiting her rooms, he headed downstairs and felt his familiar mask descend. Being with the young woman was liberating in a strange way, with her, in those secret moments, there was no need to pretend. There was no hiding with her and that kind of freedom was dangerous. It would be too easy to become attached.

 

‘As if you aren’t already,’ a little voice in the back of his head chided him. He headed for the breakfast room, ignoring the others as he helped himself to some rather strong coffee. Only he and Severus ever drank the stuff and lately it had become a necessary part of his mornings. The bitterness helping to shake any remaining lassitude away so he could face the day with a clear head.

 

“How was your little whore? I bet it felt good to vent your frustrations on her, after you missed taking out that bastard Weasley.” Evan Rosier spoke up, a lecherous grin on his face.

 

“Leave him be, Evan,” Marcus Avery said evenly. “The girl might be a mudblood, but she’s still a witch and even the lowest witch should never be degraded so. You know it could have easily been either of us that was saddled with her. Crow too loudly and the Dark Lord might choose to honour you with something worse.”

 

“Thank you, Marcus.” Lucius sat down in his usual place. “Has there been any word yet on who was actually killed last night?”

 

“None, but our spy on the inside is due to report in tonight. We should get a better idea after that.” Avery said, as Rosier stormed out in a fit of pique after being told off.

 

“Hopefully our Lord will have reason to celebrate tonight,” Lucius said. He really needed to follow Avery one night soon and discover just who he was using to spy on the Order. It could be valuable information.

 

“In all seriousness, how are things going? I can’t imagine this has been easy on you or Narcissa,” Avery asked after a quick look to be certain they were actually alone. “I can’t believe he’s forced such an indignity on you. Forced to breed with a mudblood…”

 

“Narcissa is protesting in her own way.” He frowned. His wife had been very clear on the matter. He would not go from the mudblood’s bed to hers, though really he hadn’t actually shared a bed with his wife in nearly five years, other than perfunctory visits on their anniversary. The physical aspects of their relationship had cooled significantly as their son grew older. He still cared for Cissy, but it was not the harried passion of youth. He respected her, and this was too great an indignity to her for him to expect her to tolerate. “I can hardly expect her to be pleased about it. My son won’t even look at me and I’m undecided if it’s because of the girl’s parentage, or the fact that she’s his age.”

 

“And the girl?” he pressed.

 

“She was always was exceedingly clever, so she understands the necessity of complying, at least for the moment. Thankfully, she’s more of a Ravenclaw than a Gryffindor. A little logic will get her through this.” He sighed. “But, it seems like the Dark Lord was correct, without her rational presence, Potter and the Order will continue to act in typical Gryffindor fashion.”

 

“While I would never contradict our Lord,”

 

“Of course not,” Lucius snorted.

 

“I admit I’m relieved that you angered him that night. I would not have wanted the ‘honour’, so to speak.” He shuddered.

 

“Best to keep those thoughts to yourself, these days even careful questioning can be dangerous.” Lucius cautioned him. He found the overture to be quite out of character for Avery, the man usually much more at ease with the status quo of the regime. Something was shifting and Lucius could feel an opportunity.

 

“True,” Avery said and helped himself to some breakfast. “Many things have grown dangerous these days.”

 

Lucius fell into contemplative silence, and was shortly left alone to ponder the odd encounter for the remainder of the day. The Dark Lord tended to lock himself in the North wing of the Castle, and that suited Lucius well enough. Hermione was tucked safely into a hidden chamber in the south end of the Castle, well away from unstable Dark Lords.

 

The situation with Narcissa was tense, to say the least. If they weren’t in the middle of a war, he was quite certain she’d have dissolved their marriage contract and walk away from him. It would be hard to blame her if she did. Arguing that he’d done it to protect her and their son had fallen on deaf ears, his very proud wife not wanting to hear it. She’d basically evicted him from the Manor and he was living exclusively here at the Castle.

 

“Lucius,” Severus appeared, falling into step with the blonde wizard as he walked down one of the long galleries.

 

“Severus, I trust you weren’t injured last night?” he asked. His friend was perhaps one of the most dangerous men he’d ever known, but even the best duelist could have an accident.

 

“No.” He shook his head.

 

“Did Moody know you’d been privy to Albus’ plan?” Lucius asked, the entire situation sitting poorly with him.

 

“I find it unlikely. Albus told me about the convoluted plan shortly before his…death. I doubt Moody would have gone ahead if he had any idea that I’d been told. The man was dangerously paranoid,” Severus said.

 

“I admit, I will not mourn his loss.” Lucius allowed himself a small smile.

 

“And Miss Granger, is she aware that she is mourning a loss or two?” Severus asked.

 

“I told her the truth, that I didn’t know who was killed yet.” Lucius’ demeanor didn’t change, but he paid very close attention to Severus’ body language now. The man never betrayed his true intentions with words, only through his actions.

 

“It was the youngest Weasley boy. I believe he was romantically involved with her, on some level,” Severus said, tone suspiciously devoid of any inflection.  

 

“How do you know?” Lucius stilled then.

 

“I went lower after the battle, I saw the body,” he said quietly. “Bellatrix managed to take both him and Miss Tonks, well…I suppose it was Mrs. Lupin in the end.”

 

“The Dark Lord will be disappointed that we didn’t manage to take Potter,” Lucius chose not to comment on his wife’s niece who’d had the audacity to bond with a werewolf. Shameful, but at least she’d died before polluting the family tree with Lupin’s spawn.

 

“I suppose he will be.” Severus went over to the window and leaned against the wall, looking out over the wild moorland. “He’s told me that he intends to install me at Hogwarts, as Headmaster in September.”

 

Lucius’s eyebrows rose in shock. “Surely not.”

 

“He wants me to take the Carrows along,” a pained expression broke through his mask them. “To start teaching the Dark Arts, and to begin indoctrinating them about the dangers of the Muggle world.”

 

“Severus…you can’t refuse.” Lucius felt a similar crushing press of horror.

 

“I know. And I see no way to spare the children from what’s coming, I admit that I feel…trapped.”

 

“A feeling we share at the moment, I’m afraid.” Lucius repressed a shudder. There had to be a way to end this madness. He stared out at the desolate stretch of wilderness, trying to piece things together. After Hermione had been taken, the Dark Lord had jumped into action, moving quickly. There had to be some reason for that, something he’d seen in Hermione’s head that would have caused him to accelerate his plans.

 

Hermione. Tonight, he would need to break the news of her friend or perhaps lover’s death. The thought of having shared the witch with that boy left him bristling, and he prayed she’d had better sense than to stoop quite that low. She was an intelligent and powerful young woman, far too good for the likes of a Weasley.  


	4. Care and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone that has been reviewing & following along. You guys are fantastic. Enjoy!

o.o.O.o.o

 

She’d spent most of the day in bed, feeling completely sorry for herself. Not even the gentle urgings of Petal had gotten her up to eat anything. If Harry was dead, there was no hope left…everything was over. As the sunlight began to dim, she’d forced herself out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Deciding against a shower, she put the plug into the tub and started filling it. While the water ran, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her fingers grazed the slightly purple bite mark on her neck from last night. Looking down she could see more bruises from their rough encounter. She didn’t mind them, even though she probably should. The little bit of pain helped her feel alive and stuck here…it would be too easy to stop feeling anything at all.

 

Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks; the waiting was killing her. She needed to know who had died last night. Had it been Harry? Ron? Ginny? One of the Twins? The possibilities just made her sick with worry. Worst of all, there was absolutely nothing she could do. She’d tried a hundred times to get out of these rooms. The windows were unbreakable, the floorboards wouldn’t pry up, and only Lucius could come and go at will. It was almost worse than being locked in that dark cell. The view from the windows and the access to books made it feel all too normal, something that this situation just wasn’t.

 

She shook her head and wiped the tears away. Enough. She couldn’t keep wallowing; it didn’t solve anything. She turned off the water and slipped into the bathtub, the heat sinking into her skin. She tipped her head back and just tried to quiet her mind for a little while. She was drifting in the warmth, blissfully empty of thought, when there was a tap at the door.

 

“Miss Granger?”

 

“Come in, it’s not locked,” she said. It seemed silly to worry about modesty when he was shagging her every night. The door opened and he came in. She knew with a single look at him that the news wasn’t good, he looked apprehensive.

 

“How are you feeling?” He crouched by the side of the tub and reached out, tucking a damp curl behind her ear.

 

“Not great and I’m guessing that I’m about to feel a lot worse.” She leaned into the touch. Mentally, she tried to steel herself for the news.

 

“It wasn’t Harry who was killed, but it was a friend of yours.” He took a moment. “Ronald Weasley died in the battle last night.”

 

Hermione just closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and she just couldn’t breathe. Like clips from a movie, memories of Ron flashed through her mind, a hundred thoughts and feelings that she’d never get to have again, because he was dead.

 

“No.” She wanted to be angry, to scream and beat at Lucius like a woman gone mad, but all she did was move forward and wrap her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. Everything was going away, fading into the abyss of pain that had opened up inside her on the night of her parents’ murders. Ron’s loss was nearly as devastating. “Was it quick?” she finally managed to ask.

 

“Bellatrix hit him with a killing curse, there wouldn’t have been any pain.” Lucius stroked her naked back, not protesting as she soaked his clothes with her bath water.

 

“How many more people do I have to lose? When does it stop?” She knew there were no answers, but she needed to say it.

 

“It stops when he’s finally dead,” Lucius whispered quietly, vanishing the water from the bath and summoning a towel. “Let’s get you dried off. Petal says you haven’t eaten anything all day. Can you try and eat something small for me?” He tipped her chin up, looking into her eyes.

 

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. He seemed to accept that as the only answer he was likely to get, and picked her up. He carried her into the bedroom and efficiently dried her off, before finding a clean nightgown for her. He sat her down at the vanity and carefully combed through her wet hair. He apologized for catching on some snarls, and used a little magic to untangle the mess he’d made.

 

“I probably would have married him one day,” she said softly, breaking the long silence. “He loved me, and for a long time…he was all I wanted.”

 

“Did you love him?” Lucius asked, setting the comb back on the vanity and gently massaging her shoulders.

 

“I thought I did, maybe I did for a while, but when he finally kissed me…I didn’t feel anything.” She frowned, remembering that moment so clearly. It had been on the Hogwart’s Express home, he’d pulled her close and kissed her. He’d told her to be careful and that he’d see her soon. Ron had finally kissed her and she’d felt absolutely nothing. She’d told herself at the time that it had just been because of Dumbledore’s death or that she’d been in shock. Now though, she wondered if she’d ever really loved Ron at all.

“Sometimes we love an idea much more than the reality,” he said. “It doesn’t change the fact that he was your friend, and that you cared about him in that way. Mourn him as your friend and try not to let yourself feel guilty about not caring for him more.”

 

Hermione nodded. That was the real problem, she did feel guilty. The boy she’d claimed to love had died and she was here…relatively safe and fucking a man that probably would have happily killed him. What did that make her? Did she really want to even go down that road? No, of course she didn’t. That particular road let to madness and even more self-loathing. Some Gryffindor she was, terrified of looking too closely at herself because she knew what she’d see there.

 

Lucius helped her to bed. He coaxed her to eat a little bit of toast and drink some tea. She just surrendered to the attention. Fighting took too much energy, and she just didn’t have anything left. The losses were like deep gaping wounds and she was bleeding to death. No bandage in the world could staunch the flow.

 

“Why are you being so nice? I know you hate the Weasleys.” She looked over at him.

 

“Whoever he was, he was important to you and now he’s gone. I know what it feels like to lose a friend, Miss Granger. There’s no pain quite like it,” he said. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll stay as long as I can.”

 

“But, don’t we have to…” Hermione frowned. It was the last thing she wanted right now, but there was still that looming fear that Voldemort would give her to Greyback if they didn’t.

 

“Not tonight. If he corners me, I’ll tell him you were ill. It’s hardly even a lie.” He stroked her face.

 

“Thank you.” Hermione felt a swell of warmth spread through her. It was just a lie, but the fact that he was willing to risk the Dark Lord’s ire for her meant something. She curled up on her side and as he curled an arm around her protectively, she felt the wild spinning of the world stop. For just a little while, she was safe.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Lucius paid for his small act of gallantry, bleeding onto the rough-hewn stones of the meeting room. Everyone’s face was impassive, but as he lay there gasping for breath, he could see the tightness around some people’s eyes. Not everyone was as enthusiastic as their Lord about this little experiment. Before the Dark Lord’s return, Lucius had been the greatest of all of them. Now they watched as he was stripped of his power, dignity, and even free will. He knew it was only a matter of time before the others stopped revelling in his failures, and started worrying about their own fates under this madman. He kept those thoughts under lock and key, buried deep in his mind.

 

“I don’t care if the little bitch is bleeding out of every orifice. Until she is pregnant or dead, you will fuck her every single night.” The Dark Lord hissed at him. “Or I will find someone else that can. Crucio,” he cursed the prone wizard again. He continued until he managed to draw ragged screams from Lucius’ throat. “Do you understand, Lucius?”

 

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius said through clenched teeth as he forced himself back up onto his feet. The room was spinning wildly under his feet, but staying on the ground was not advisable. Laying there like a victim invited others to cause him harm. Survival first. Healing later. Revenge, even later still.

 

“Yaxley, where are we on locating the remaining members of the Order?” The Dark Lord turned away, dismissing Lucius as though he were completely insignificant.

 

Severus moved up and carefully slipped Lucius a potion for the pain. Lucius took it, while the Dark Lord was occupied with Yaxley’s report. His muscles twinge painfully in the aftermath of the cruciatis, but more than anything it was his pride that stung hardest. Ordered to fornicate on some mad-man’s orders like a beast. It was not to be borne. He was grateful when they were all finally released, and he stormed away from the meeting, heading back toward Hermione’s rooms.

 

“Lucius, a moment.” A voice called after him.

 

“Yes, Rodolphus?” Lucius paused and turned to look at the elder Lestange brother. Azkaban had changed the other man, more profoundly than the others that had come out. It would be hard for most to notice it, but Rodolphus had been in his year at Hogwarts and they knew each other well. Too well, at times.

 

“There are ways around that monitoring spell,” he said quietly, coming to stand near the man.

 

“Oh?”

 

“My parents placed it on Bellatrix and me after our wedding, when it was clear that things were not…going as planned,” he admitted. “I’ll find the volume the curse was detailed in, and you should be able to find ways around it, here and there. It can’t be fooled all the time, but you can…stretch it a little.”

 

“Why so helpful all of a sudden?” Lucius narrowed his eyes.

 

“Because he goes too far,” he said simply. “I’ll have the book for you tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you, Rod.” He let out a breath. “I appreciate it.”

 

“Avery is coming to my home tomorrow for dinner, you should join us,” Rodolphus said. “I can give you the book then.”

 

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said. There was something Rod was dancing around. It was clear that he’d never discuss it anywhere the Dark Lord might have eyes and ears. He watched the other Deatheater walk away and resolved to speak to Hermione about what the Dark Lord had taken from her mind. He needed information, and quickly.

 

He climbed the spiral staircase and entered her rooms, just as dark and silent as he’d left them. He’d been forcing himself to return to his own rooms here each night once she was asleep, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so horrible to just spend the night in her bed. He entered her bedroom and leaned against the door frame for a moment, taking in the sight awaiting him. The bed was bathed in moonlight, the nearly full moon casting its silvery glow on the witch as she slept.

 

Even a year ago, he’d have scoffed at anyone calling the young woman beautiful, but now he’d dare anyone to say that she wasn’t. It wasn’t the cold untouchable beauty that witches like his wife could claim, but hers was something softer and warmer. Her curls were riotous, completely resistant to any attempts to tame them and he wondered how they would look if she grew them out longer. She was petite, almost fragile looking as she laid there in the bed. Awake, the force of her personality kept people from seeing just how delicate she was; how easy it would be to break her beyond repair. That she was still standing at all was something of a miracle. Of course, everything that she had lost in the last two months had damaged her. Possibly to the point that she’d never completely recover.

 

He started to undress, tossing his clothes over the dressing table bench. He slipped into the bed beside her, smiling as she turned into him and nestled against his side. He supposed that after losing as much as she had, it was only natural that she’d hold on tightly to any offered kindness. This closeness would never survive outside these forced and artificial conditions, but for now he would just enjoy it. He breathed in the scent of her hair, the vanilla of her shampoo only masking the warmer scent that was purely her. It was a strange mixture of cinnamon and cloves, and another smell that reminded him of his mother’s garden when he’d been a child. He couldn’t name the flower, but it reminded him of sun soaked afternoons and laughter.

 

He didn’t have the heart to wake her, not when she was sleeping so soundly, so he just wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes. They could talk in the morning.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione opened her eyes, surprised to not find herself alone. She was curled against Lucius’ chest, his heart beating steadily under her cheek. Usually, by the time the sun was peeking above the horizon, Lucius would be long gone. The smile slipped off her lips as she saw the pink, healing lines across his chest. Those had not been there when she’d fallen asleep. Her fingers reached out to ghost over one of the marks, a frown starting to furrow her brow. Lucius’ hand came up and covered hers, guiding it to rest on an unmarked part of his chest.

 

“They’re still a little tender,” he said, voice still heavy with sleep.

 

“Were they because of me?” she asked.

 

“No. They were because I gave him an excuse. You needed to rest and I was more than willing to pay the consequences for my choice. He was hardly going to kill me for it, at least not this time,” he said, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand.

 

“But why is he singling you out? It’s never made any sense to me,” Hermione shifted a little so she could see his face.

 

“There are a lot of reasons, but the easiest to understand is that I’m the perfect example for the others. A kind of cautionary tale. Socially, I’m the highest ranking of all of them. If I can be forced to kneel, to cower, and bleed on his command…what hope do the others have of standing against him?” He shrugged a little. “He also knows me well enough to understand that there will come a point where I won’t just take it. He wants me dead, but I’m one of the highest ranking members of his Inner Circle. He’d need me to strike first, so he is trying to force my hand. He forgets that I am my father’s son. Just as my father helped him rise, I’m just as capable of making certain he falls.”

 

Hermione shivered a little at the cold fury in his voice.

 

“So, I pursuit of that end, I need to know what he saw in your mind that night, Hermione,” Lucius said.

 

“Why?”

 

“Whatever he saw spurred him into action, something you knew spooked him. You need to tell me everything.” Lucius looked deadly serious.

 

“On one condition,” Hermione said, trying not to balk at that look on his face.

 

“Name it.”

 

“Give me the names of the men that murdered my parents. If I help you, then I want you to help me make them pay.” She wanted them dead, and more than that…she wanted to be the one to do it. She wanted them to scream the way her father had screamed as he’d been dismembered alive. She wanted to see the light in their eyes go out.

 

“If you want their deaths, Hermione. I’ll make sure you get them,” Lucius promised. “There was no one there that I’d lament losing.”

 

“Their names,” she pressed.

 

“Amycus Carrow, Fenrir Greyback, Augustus Rookwood, Walden McNair, and Evan Rosier.” Lucius didn’t hesitate. “Before this is over, I will help you put them all in the ground. I swear that to you.”

 

“Ok.” She sat up, moving to sit up against the headboard. “Harry told me everything that Dumbledore shared with him last year. I know the whole Prophecy, I know that your ‘Dark Lord’ is actually the son of a muggle and a witch with so little magic that she never even warranted a Hogwarts letter.” She started off. “His name is Tom Riddle Jr. and his mother’s name was Merope Gaunt. She used love potions to ensnare his father, but after she was pregnant she confessed to him what she had done. He cast her aside and she died soon after giving birth to him.”

 

Lucius’ eyebrows rose as he sat up in the bed, utterly gobsmacked.

 

“He grew up in a muggle orphanage and used his accidental magic to torture and torment the other children. Dumbledore was the one who brought him his letter, but Tom was forced to return to that orphanage each summer. No wonder he was obsessed with finding a way to become immortal. Those summers, when he had to return to London, were during the Blitz in World War II.” She shuddered, unable to even imagine how that might have twisted even her. “He was the one that opened the Chamber of Secrets the first time, and he used Myrtle’s death to make his very first Horcrux.”

 

“First? He made more than one?” Lucius paled a little.

 

“The Headmaster believed that he intended to split his soul into seven pieces. That would mean six horcruxes and then the piece of soul still in his physical form. The Diary you gave Ginny was that first horcrux and Harry destroyed it with Basilisk venom. The Headmaster destroyed a second the summer after the Department of Mysteries fiasco, though he paid dearly for it. Harry said there was a curse, that his hand was blackened. Right before Snape killed him, the Headmaster had taken Harry to a cave where a third was hidden. It was on an island surrounded by Inferi. Getting it nearly killed Harry and the Headmaster, only for them to discover that it was a fake. It was a replica of Slytherin’s locket and inside was a note from someone with the initials RAB. It said they had taken the locket and would find a way to destroy it, or die trying. The plan was for me, Harry, and Ron to go looking for the locket and try to figure out what the other three Horcruxes were so that we could destroy them,” Hermione said, feeling better saying it out loud.

 

“That was Dumbledore’s plan, to send three teenagers on some sort of deranged scavenger hunt, with no real information or support?” He blinked.

 

“Needs must, I guess.” She sighed. “Before I left the school, I scoured it for any Dark Arts texts I could find. They’d all been hidden in the Headmaster’s quarters, so I took them. I’d hoped to find some clues, I guess. The prophecy was pretty clear that Harry and Voldemort are destined to do battle, and that only one of them will survive. But it’s your typical woolly prophecy, big on drama and short on details.”

 

“Well, I can solve one mystery for you. RAB stands for Regulus Arcturus Black. If he took that locket, there’s only one creature on this earth that will know where he hid it.”

 

“Kreacher,” Hermione said, eyes widening. “It was there, under our noses the whole time.”

 

“Given how carefully the Dark Lord guards Nagini these days, it’s likely that she is one as well. I also know that Bellatrix often crows about something the Dark Lord entrusted her with. One of these objects could well be hidden either in her vault at Gringotts or somewhere in Lestrange Manor.” Lucius tapped a finger against his lips, thinking about something. “So that just leaves one unaccounted for.”

 

“It’s a start at least,” Hermione said, shocked at how quickly everything had been revealed.

 

“Now, the Black home in London must be under Fidelius, or we’d have found it by now. With Dumbledore dead, anyone that knows the secret can share it, if they choose to. It’s the one thing the Dark Lord wouldn’t have been able to steal from your mind, since the secret can only be shared willingly. I need to make contact with your friends, so I need you tell me where the Headquarters of the Order is, Hermione. I need you to trust me,” Lucius said.

 

Hermione felt her head shaking. If he was playing her and she told him, she could be signing everyone’s death warrants. She squeezed her eyes shut and swore. What Lucius had just shared with her was too damned important to ignore. Harry needed this information, desperately. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

 

“Promise me this isn’t just a trick. Promise me you won’t betray them.”

 

“I give you my word. I swear on my magic and the blood of my ancestors that I will not betray your trust, Hermione Granger.” Lucius held her gaze unwaveringly. “We need to rely on one another, or there’s no way to put an end to this nightmare.”  

 

“The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place,” she said after a long, trembling silence.

 

“It’s going to be alright, my brave little witch.” Lucius reached over and pulled her back to his side, wrapping an arm around her to try and still her trembling. He dropped a kiss against her temple.

 

“Wait, why didn’t Snape just tell you?” Hermione frowned, a thought turning over and over in her head. “He knows where Headquarters is, just as well as I do.”

 

“He claimed Dumbledore never took him there.” Lucius looked down at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

 

“He’s definitely been there. He’s lying,” Hermione said. “So what else is he lying about…” She pulled back from Lucius and slipped out of the bed, starting to pace and trying to fit all the pieces together.

 

“It could be nothing, Hermione. An additional oath that Dumbledore bound him to, or some other angle he’s playing,” Lucius said.

 

“No. Handing the Order’s Headquarters over to you would have been worth too much. There’s no point in him hiding that and anything short of an unbreakable vow would have just expired with Dumbledore’s Death.” She could feel it, something just beyond her grasp. It was there, but she just couldn’t see it all yet. He had killed Dumbledore, there was no explaining that away, or was there? She stopped dead. “Merlin’s hairy ballsack…”

 

“Such language.” Lucius chuckled, looking rather amused as she sorted out the problem.

 

“We were all so bloody stupid! Don’t you see? Dumbledore was dying.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “The cursed hand, the poison he drank to get the fake horcrux…he wasn’t even going to make it until morning.”

 

“He wanted Severus to kill him?” Lucius frowned.

 

“That was why he ordered Harry to go and get Snape, not to help him…but to end it.” She flopped back on the bed, her head resting on Lucius’ bare thigh. “He didn’t say stop or don’t, he said please.” She put her hand over her mouth and felt instantly ill. How quickly had they all leapt off the ledge Dumbledore had stood them up on. No one in the infirmary that night had defended Severus, or even thought to question what had happened. It had been too easy for Remus and the others to fall back into old prejudices and not look any further than Harry’s emotional testimony.  

 

“You can’t know that for sure,” Lucius stroked her hair.

 

“Harry chased after them, alone. Snape could have easily stunned him and taken him right to your Dark Lord.” She had to admit saying ‘Dark Lord’ sounded far less ridiculous than You-Know-Who. “You can’t tell me that it wouldn’t have gotten him even more favour and prestige?”

 

“You’re not wrong about that,” he frowned. “You might not be wrong about any of it, but approaching Severus will have to be done carefully.” He absently wound one of her curls around his finger.

 

“No kidding,” she said and shook her head a little. “Just trying to approach the Order will be dangerous enough. They could just kill you on sight and even if they don’t…they’d never believe that I’d really help you.” She closed her eyes. It was pointless. They had all this information, but no actual way to get it to them.

 

“Not unless you told them the truth,” Lucius said.

 

“No,” she said instantly, tone cold as ice. “No one needs to know about this.”

 

“Hermione…” he said gently.

 

“No. I don’t need my friends to know about this…” She closed her eyes tight. “It’s bad enough if they think I’m just a prisoner, they don’t need the details.”

 

“It’s the only way they’ll believe us. Do you know what a pensieve is?” he asked.

 

“Yes. I’ve never used one, but I know what they do. You cannot honestly be suggesting we share memories of what’s happened?” She felt ill at the thought of anyone she knew seeing the weak, pathetic creature she’d become.

 

“Just a few carefully selected ones, so that they understand the duress we’re both under and can believe that my defection is genuine,” Lucius said. “I wouldn’t ask if I thought there was any other way to make them truly understand.”

 

Hermione shivered as she tried to think about who she could trust in the Order to not tell anyone about this. Someone that would understand the importance of Lucius’ assistance enough to be willing to accept it. Harry was completely out of the question. She loved her friend like a brother, but he had a tendancy to go off half-cocked. The Weasleys just weren’t feasible given that it was a Malfoy involved, and she didn’t know a lot of the others.

 

“Remus. He’d probably smell me all over you anyway, and he’s good at keeping secrets.” It was really the only choice.

 

“Write your letter to him, and I’ll bring a penseive tonight to start selecting memories. Hopefully, I can stay alive long enough to convince them I mean them no harm.” He looked less than enthusiastic about that prospect.

 

“Can you get me to an owl?” Hermione asked after a moment.

 

“Perhaps. What did you have in mind?”

 

“There’s a charm to get mail to the Order. I can make contact and hopefully that will keep them from just killing you on sight,” Hermione said.  

 

“Such a clever witch,” Lucius said, still absently stroking her hair. “We might actually survive this little endeavour.”

 

A rumble of thunder and dimming of the light in the bedroom heralded the approach of a storm. Hermione just hoped that it wasn’t an omen for their plans. Hermione turned her head and brushed a kiss against the tattoo on his thigh, deciding that she didn’t want to keep thinking about things right now.

 

“Mmmm,” Lucius rumbled in approval, his fingers still playing lazily with her hair.

 

As the soft patter of raindrops started hitting the windows, Hermione slowly kissed her way up his body. She paid attention to how his skin jumped when she scraped her teeth over his stomach, and watched as his eyes darkened when she wrapped her hand around his hardening cock. He remained mostly passive under her this time, letting her set the pace and explore however she wanted. She held his gaze as her tongue darted out to flick across his nipple. A little thrill of excitement passed through her as she heard the sharp intake of his breath.

 

Watching his reactions was a heady thing, knowing that she was the one in control. No matter how briefly it might last. She nipped at the skin of his throat, feeling the slight roughness of his morning stubble there. Her lips teased against his ear.

 

“Get rid of my pajamas, would you?” She grinned as she felt the now familiar whisper of his magic against her skin, divesting her of her clothing. Boldly, she straddled his hips and caught him in a languid kiss. She rocked back and could feel him there, so very hard and ready, but he made no effort to hurry her along.

 

His hands weren’t completely idle though. One was maddeningly trailing up and down her spine, and the other had slipped between her legs to tease her with feather-light strokes. She moaned into his lips, caught in an exquisite place between pleasure and need. Her hand reached back and she lifted up to carefully slide down into him. She braced herself against his chest, getting used to the new angle. She’d never done this before, but watching him under her was fucking brilliant. His hands settled against her hips, fingers brushing her ass as she settled fully against him.

 

She started a tentative rhythm, his hands guiding her as she gained her confidence.

 

“Just like that,” Lucius gasped under her, hips thrusting up to meet her now.

 

The storm was getting louder, and Hermione let go. She rode him harder, crying out as he tilted her hips just a little and he was suddenly hitting her in just the right spot. She leaned down and kissed him, nearly melting as he buried a hand in her hair, gripping tight as their lips warred with one another. She wanted it to go on forever, even as she wanted to chase the inevitable crash of release. Her entire world narrowed down to the feel of their bodies moving together, the sting as he caught her lip between his teeth, and even the sweat slicking their skin.

 

Her own pleasure took her by surprise, and his hand on her hip tightened, holding her now as he thrust up into her. He finished with a final cry and Hermione collapsed down onto him, completely and utterly spent. Her muscles ached, her sex throbbed, and they were both shaking a little, but right now she felt at peace.

 

The rain was pounding against the window now, and when she started to shiver from the cool air settling against their sweat-soaked skin, Lucius tugged the blankets up over them.

 

“Maybe I should spend the night more often,” Lucius said, lazily stroking his thumb just along her spine.

 

“Mmmm,” Hermione couldn’t quite manage words yet, but the idea of him being here when she woke up felt frighteningly good. She nuzzled her face against his neck, just soaking up the feel of him. “Can you stay a while?” she asked.

 

“Yes, I can stay,” he responded. “I have to be somewhere later on, but for now I’m all yours. Merlin save you.” He chuckled.

 

“Somehow I don’t think anyone is going to save me, but just right now…I don’t really mind.” Frightening as it sounded, being here in his arms was exactly where she wanted to be.


	5. Making Contact

o.o.O.o.o

 

The late July rainstorm was still raging when Lucius apparated to Lestrange Manor. The old Gothic manor had always left him feeling a bit ill at ease, but he gave Rodolphus a warm smile nonetheless as he was greeted in the entrance hall.

 

“Glad you could make it, Avery’s in the study,” Rodolphus said.

 

“I was surprised for the invitation. Everyone’s been keeping me at arm’s length since my…liberation from Azkaban.” Lucius fell into step with him, after spelling himself dry. It was hard not to feel slighted when he was regularly ostracized by the others and avoided like the plague.  

 

“Everyone can see the Dark Lord’s disfavour hanging over you. It frightens the weaker ones away. You and I were always friends though, even before we married the sisters.” Rodolphus chuckled, making reference to their status as brothers-in-law.

 

“Yes, we were,” Lucius said, acknowledging the loose familial tie. Rod was certainly up to something if he was invoking kin status. As a rule, things discussed between family, stayed between family. “Speaking of Bella, how is my slightly deranged sister-in-law?”

 

“Her stint in Azkaban didn’t do her any favours,” Rodolphus said simply. “Not in any regard.” They entered the study and Lucius accepted a glass of fire whiskey and settled down. He nodded to Avery.

 

“How are you healing from last night?” Avery asked.

 

“Well enough, at least the physical injuries.” Lucius shrugged. “It’s no matter, I brought it upon myself.” Sudden changes in behaviour were always to be treated with caution. A few weeks ago, Rodolphus or Avery would not have hesitated a moment to turn their wands on him, so this sudden concern was unsettling.

 

“You’re among friends here, Lucius. You did nothing of the sort,” Rodolphus said, hazel eyes narrowing. “A witch and a wizard are not a pair of krups to be bred at someone’s amusement.”

 

“Careful, Rod,” Lucius said carefully. So that appeared to be their issue, the forced degradation of pureblood families. Both of them were probably wondering how long it would be before they too were ordered to take a muggleborn witch to their bed. Or worse yet a muggle.

 

“I agree,” Avery said. “I’ve never had an issue with killing mudbloods, but this…it’s not right. He’s asking you to sully your bloodline, for what? His curiosity?”

 

“I’m sure he has his reasons.” Lucius sipped his drink, ever cautious. “It could be worse, Marcus. Remember that it can always be worse.”

 

“Yes, but not by very much,” Rodolphus said. “What news from your spy Avery?”

 

“He says the Order is reeling. The loss of three important pieces is crippling them. He’s not certain how long they’ll be able to limp along,” Avery said.

 

“Who did you manage to turn?” Lucius asked.

 

“Mundungus Fletcher, who else? He’s always been willing to do anything for enough galleons.” Avery rolled his eyes.

 

“I should have guessed.” Lucius chuckled. It would be a valuable piece of information for the Order, and help shore up their leaky defences. The state they were in right now, they would need every advantage they could possible get.

 

“Short-sighted of old Dumbledore to include characters like that,” Rodolphus said. “He made a lot of poor decisions this time around, or at least that’s how it appears.”

 

“It does seem uncharacteristic,” Lucius agreed. “Leaving the girl exposed, leaking the plan to Severus, and even his death…it seems all so contrived.” He sounded out a few of the ideas he and Hermione had discussed.

 

“Yes, and I don’t like it at all,” Rodolphus said. “The man was many things, but not a fool.”

 

“What advantage is there to all that then?” Avery frowned hard.

 

“I don’t know, and that’s what bothers me. There’s something we’re missing and I just hope that it’s not something that’s going to jump up and bite us all when we’re least expecting it,” Rodolphus said. “Your little pet might be able to shed some light on that.”

 

“She’s hardly my pet, Rod. Witches aren’t krups, remember?” Lucius snorted. “The Dark Lord took everything of value from her mind, what surprises could there be?”

 

“I don’t know, but he hasn’t shared anything he took from her head. He just altered plans that had been months in the making. We lost good men because he changed things without warning and rushed timelines. She knows something,” Rod said firmly.

 

“She’d hardly be willing to share it with me. Just because she understands that fucking me is prudent, doesn’t mean that she trusts me.” Lucius scoffed, but inwardly was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

 

“Then perhaps you should start building some, particularly if you manage to get her pregnant and can spirit her away from the Dark Lord. She could tell you all sorts of things, give you a real advantage.” Rod grinned.

 

“Perhaps.” He shrugged, not committing to anything just in case this was an elaborate trap to try and get him to betray himself. He held the other wizard’s gaze for a long moment, before the topic was smoothly shifted to something more neutral.

 

The tension continued through dinner, and lasted until Avery finally took his leave.

 

“You already know what the Dark Lord took from her head, don’t you?” Rod asked once they were completely alone.

 

“Do you really believe that a few months spent in Azkaban robbed me of my wits, Rodolphus?” Lucius raised an eyebrow. “My few missteps aside, I’m not a stupid man.”

 

“No, you aren’t. Everyone always forgets that you were top of our year, it gets lost under the Quidditch Captain and Lord Malfoy prestige.” Rod chuckled. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but fourteen years in Azkaban can change a man.” His face sobered instantly. “This was never what I dreamed about.”

 

Lucius nodded. It wasn’t what any of them had envisioned when they’d sworn their lives to the Dark Lord. They’d been young and foolish, caught up in the idea of restoring the glory of their society.

 

“You said you had a book that might help me get around the monitoring spell?” he asked.

 

“That I do.” Rod stood. “I’ll get it for you. And when you’re ready maybe we can discuss the future, and what we’d like it to hold.”

 

“We’ll see. All of us should be cautious these days.” Lucius stood. “Even old friends.”

 

“Perhaps especially old friends.” Rod nodded and seemed to understand.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione had never liked the sensation of disillusionment charms, it felt like ice slipping down her spine. Lucius was walking confidently ahead of her, through the dark and abandoned halls. She kept pace, having to hurry to keep up. The staircase up to the owlery was steep and winding. He had returned late, and they had agreed that sooner really was better than later to arrange a meeting. She had also warned Remus that Mundungus had turned on them, and that he could absolutely not be trusted to know about the meeting with Lucius.

 

The entered the owlery and Lucius warded the door behind them, before removing the charm. She shivered a little as the sensation faded.

 

“I regret that I don’t know what happened to your wand, but perhaps you can make use of mine for this,” Lucius said looking distinctly uncomfortable.

 

“Will it even work for me?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out.” Lucius offered her the smooth elm wand.

 

Hermione took it, feeling a strange sensation flow up her arm. It wasn’t acceptance, but not rejection either. It was like a zap of static electricity, but it didn’t abate. The intense sensation jumped along her nerves and she had to fight to not drop the wand. She flicked it experimentally, trying to produce a non-verbal lumos and it was a little sluggish, but it responded.

 

“I feel like it’s…tolerating me,” she said, settling on that word.

 

“Better than an outright rejection,” Lucius said and pointed out which owl to use. It was an old, slightly ragged looking common barn owl.  “This is Myrrdin. He was my owl when I was in school, and he will make sure your letter gets where it needs to go.”

 

Hermione nodded and focused, casting the special charm that would allow the owl through the wards at Grimmauld Place. A golden light hovered over the owl for a moment before dissipating. She offered the letter to it.

 

“Take this to Remus Lupin,” she said clearly, and the owl took it and launched itself off the roost and out the nearest window.

 

“Now, we should return to your rooms and start working on the memories,” he said and took his hand back from her unresisting fingers.

 

Hermione nodded, looking out the owlery window for a moment, before the crawling sensation of the disillusionment charm settled back over her.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Remus had not been expecting an owl as he sat and tried to drown his sorrows. The old barn owl dumped the letter on the table and proceeded to steal the cold pot roast that had been left half-eaten in front of him. Molly had cooked for him, trying to coax him to eat something. When the Ministry had fallen, the Burrow had been one of the first places hit. The Weasleys were living predominantly at the other safehouse, but Molly tried to come and check on him and Harry every few days. The situation was grim and getting darker by the day.

 

He picked up the letter and nearly dropped it. The handwriting on the front was achingly familiar, but he didn’t dare even think her name. She was dead, but ghosts didn’t write letters.

 

_Professor Lupin,_

_I hope that this letter gets to you. I apologize for how rambling and probably crazy most of this is going to sound. First thing is that I’m not dead, obviously. I’ve wished that I was a few times, but Voldemort decided to keep me alive. After my parents were murdered, I was taken to him. He ripped into my mind and took everything he could. Anything I knew, except for the location of Headquarters, he knows. I’ve been a prisoner ever since, but now I have some help so I can at least reach out to you. This letter is enchanted to be read only by you, and I need to ask you to keep certain things between us. I’ve had to do things to stay alive and protect myself, things that I don’t think most of the Order would understand. Tell them that I’m alive and a prisoner, but I ask that you keep the details to yourself. Please._

_The first month after I was taken, they kept me in a dark cell. No light. No contact with anyone. Then I was dragged before Voldemort and given a choice, if you can call it that. Greyback had asked for me as a reward; a new member for his pack, if I survived his attentions long enough to change. The other option was to agree to sleep with one of his Death Eaters. He has some theory about half-bloods being superior to purebloods or muggleborns. He wants to test that theory with me by forcing Lucius Malfoy to try and get me pregnant. And I do mean force. Malfoy’s no happier about it than I am, but we’ve come to an understanding on the matter. He’s the one who helped me send this letter to you._

_There is a lot of tension in the Death Eater ranks, more than we could ever have imagined. Malfoy wants to defect, to help the Order from the inside. I told him where Head Quarters was, and he will be there tomorrow night. He will bring a portable pensieve and some carefully selected memories for you to view. These memories are for your eyes only, Remus. Someone in the Order needs to understand why I trust him, and why he wants to stop Voldemort as badly as we do. Don’t let anyone else see them. Harry would lose his head and you need him focused, now more than ever._

_Whatever you think of him, know that he hasn’t hurt me. He could have. He could have done a lot of things, and Voldemort probably expected him to. He can’t set me free, so please don’t ask him to. Right now, I don’t matter. Winning the war is what matters and the best I can do is hand you a weapon to use against Voldemort. So try not to kill him until you’ve at least seen the memories._

_~Hermione_

_P.S – Don’t trust Mundungus. Avery has turned him and he’s been spying on you all._

Remus didn’t know what to feel in that moment. He watched as the little owl just threw back the last piece of roast and then promptly took off. Clearly it was not waiting for a response. He scrubbed a hand over his face, stubble rough under his fingers. It was certainly from Hermione, the handwriting and cadence of her words familiar to him. The warning about Mundungus made far too much sense as well, despite Dumbledore’s faith in him, he had never trusted the wizard. The man was a coward, but like Peter had been.

 

After reading the letter, he debated about calling a meeting for the Order but immediately dismissed the idea. There was no sense in getting their hopes up until he knew what was actually happening. He did send Harry to the other safehouse, claiming that he needed to run a mission and didn’t want Harry on his own. Molly hadn’t even blinked before taking charge of the young wizard.

 

Losing his two best friends in the span of two month had broken something in him. He didn’t dare give Harry any false hope until he was completely certain that this was genuine. In truth he was very worried about Harry, after Hermione’s death the two remaining friends had drawn even closer together. Hermione’s death had been a rallying call, fueling their desire to end Voldemort with fresh pain and rage. Losing Ron a mere month later had extinguished that flame and without his usual supports…Harry had crumbled. Ginny and the Twins were trying to prop him up, but it was a fight to get him to even eat these days.  

 

He waited in the dark for the Death Eater to arrive, wand in his hand and at the ready. He was very glad that Hermione had only been aware of one of the Order’s safehouses, because if this turned out to be a trap they would lose this location until the war was finished. It had been reckless of her to give it to Lucius Malfoy, but he had to believe that it was because she was desperate. The Hermione he knew was smart, and he had to believe that she’d weighed the risks of doing this.

 

There was a pop as someone apparated into the front Hall. Lucius Malfoy stood there, as arrogant and self-assured as Remus had ever seen him.

 

“Show me your hands, Malfoy,” Remus spoke as he stepped out of the shadows, wand held steady on him.

 

“Lupin.” Lucius inclined his head as he turned, hands spread wide to show that he was not holding his wand.

 

“Hermione’s letter said you’d have a pensieve and memories for me to see,” he said.

 

“I brought them. May I reach into my cloak to take them out?” he asked, a bit of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

 

“Slowly,” Remus said and watched as the man reached into a hidden pocket and withdrew a silver bowl, the large rim layered with runes. He placed it on the table, followed by three vials full of silvery liquid. “The door to your left goes into the sitting room, go in and take a seat.”

 

Lucius nodded and went through the door indicated and sat down in one of the worn armchairs.

 

“You’ll have to forgive my caution.” Remus flicked his wand, and magical ropes bound Lucius to the chair.

 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Lucius replied and shrugged a little.

 

Remus retried the pensieve and the memories before coming back into the sitting room and putting the bowl onto the table. He picked up the bottled labelled #1 and tipped it into the pensieve. He leaned forward and fell into the memory. Instantly, he knew that this wasn’t anything manufactured. He was standing in the middle of a muggle home and he felt instantly ill when he realized what he was looking at. Hermione was being held down, Greyback holding her head up and forcing her to watch the dismemberment of her father. It was horrific and bloody. He watched as the teenage witch screamed and sobbed, begging them to stop. The men laughed at her, and then the scene shifted to her being dragged before Voldemort.

 

He watched a procession of memories, of her waking in a dark cell and the mind numbing progression of days as she was kept in complete darkness and isolation. It was an old technique and without question the perfect one for breaking a witch like Hermione. That kind of mind-numbing vacuum would damage her more than physical torture would. He watched as the door finally opened and she was dragged from the cell by Greyback. He bristled as the creature groped at her lewdly, and if he did nothing else before this war was over, he swore he’d kill the monster.

 

He watched the scene play out as Voldemort offered her the choice between Malfoy and Greyback, and he couldn’t blame her for grasping onto Malfoy. It was the only sane choice of the two. She was weak, wandless, and surrounded. There was no possibility of escape from that room, only two impossible choices. He turned his focus onto Malfoy as the man offered to help her stand as the room emptied. The images then faded to back and he moved out of the pensieve. He looked at Malfoy, and walked over to the chair.

 

“What is in the other two vials?” Remus asked. This close he could smell the familiar scent of Hermione all over him, but surprisingly not the sharp tang he always associated with sex. They clearly spent time together outside of bed, enough to engrain the scent of each other into their skin…something even a shower wouldn’t easily wash away.

 

“The second vial is more of her memories of our interactions, and the third is a few of my own that you may find illuminating,” Lucius said.

 

Remus nodded and went to put the second vial of memories into the pensieve. As he moved through, he was relieved that there wasn’t anything there that would make it hard to meet her eyes again. He had spent a year teaching her, and imagining her a sexual being was…difficult. What he did find illuminating was the casual intimacy shared between them. Watching Lucius caring for her after the news of Ron’s death tore at his heart, remembering his own wife and all the little moments he’d never get to have again. He wondered if the other wizard had any idea just how ensnared he was by the young woman. It was clear in his expressions and the way he touched her. It was evident through watching the memories that these were real and that Hermione was acting of her own free will.

 

Remus came out and then reached for the third vial, tipping it into the bowl and immersing himself. He could instantly tell that it was a different mind than the previous memories. The feel of Lucius Malfoy’s memories was darker, more menacing as he stepped into them.

 

_Lucius was standing in the front of a group of Death Eaters as they discussed the Ministry takeover. The talk shifted to how they were going to try and gain control of Potter, and Lucius snorted._

_“Perhaps, if we hadn’t wasted the element of surprise taking Potter’s worthless muggleborn friend, we could have gotten our hands on someone that could have yielded viable intelligence on the matter,” he said disdainfully, not realizing Voldemort had entered the room behind him._

_The cutting curse struck the unprepared man across the chest, sending him down to the ground as blood began to spill onto the rough stone floor._

_“Worthless you say?” Voldemort purred as he stalked over, the other Death Eaters scattering backwards quickly._

_“She offers no real tactical advantage,” Lucius ground out, dragging himself up to one knee. “We’d have been better served taking Moody or Lupin. Someone with actual information that we could use.”_

_“The girl is the ultimate tactical advantage. I do believe that your time in Azkaban has dulled your intelligence, my slippery friend. She is Potter’s reason, his restraint. Without her, he will act rashly and without purpose. Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he forged that connection, he gave Potter the brightest, most talented witch of their year and knew that she would be driving force behind his successes. Without her, that boy would have been dead several times over. You’ve questioned me for the very last time, Lucius. Perhaps you require a reminder of your proper place in this new world.” Voldemort flicked his wand at Lucius again, more blood pooling on the floor._

_“I am very aware of my place.” Lucius said, bitterness clear in his tone._

_“No, I don’t believe you are. You’ve always been a proud creature Lucius, so concerned with your superiority and personal importance. I had hoped that some time in Azkaban would remedy you of that defect, but apparently not. It’s time you were reminded that anything you have can be taken away, unless you maintain my goodwill. So, here is my command to you. You will fuck Potter’s worthless mudblood, and you will get that girl pregnant. You will dirty your bloodline with her filth because it pleases me to have you do it. Once she is pregnant, I will torment Potter with the knowledge that his dear sweet friend willingly spread her legs for his enemies. I will destroy the boy with it, and you will finally understand that YOU ARE MINE!” He shouted._

_“Yes, my Lord.” Lucius bowed his head, but Remus could see the abject rage on his face._

_“If you defy me on this, I will give your beautiful wife to Greyback and if you continue to resist, you will watch as I kill your son before I finally end you. You will learn obedience, Lucius. Greyback, fetch me the girl and do keep your hands to yourself.” Voldemort commanded and the beast left the room._

The scene shifted, and Remus watched as he was punished again for trying to spare Hermione for a night to grieve, and then he watched Lucius’ meetings with both Snape and Rodolphus. The information was indeed interesting, and like Hermione he found himself wondering if perhaps they had been wrong about the Potions Master. It was a disturbing thought, and the more he rolled it around in his head…the more it made sense. It hit him like a bludger to the gut. He came out of the pensieve and gathered the memories back into their bottles.

 

He flicked his wand at Malfoy and released him from the ropes.

 

“I assume you believe us then?” Lucius asked.

 

“I know that I shouldn’t, but I do.” Remus ran a hand through his hair and collapsed into the other chair. “How is she…really?”

 

“She is…coping.” Lucius settled on that word after a moment of thought. “She will break down at some point, but she’s fighting hard to hold on. I’m doing what I can to help her.”

 

“Thank you for that. Losing her has been hard on Harry, he will be relieved to know that she’s alive. There’s no way to help her escape, is there?” Remus had to ask.

 

“No. I am very sorry, but there’s just no way. Perhaps, if I am allowed to move her there might be, but unless she ends up pregnant that won’t be allowed to happen. Hopefully we can end this war before that happens,” Lucius said.

 

“And what if she does end up pregnant?” Remus asked. “What will happen to her and the child?” The wizarding world was not a forgiving place, and still clung somewhat stubbornly to rather archaic morals. It was a question that he needed to ask, for her sake.

 

“If she were to get pregnant, I’d make certain she was taken care of. There are provisions in my marriage contract for such a situation. It would protect her and the child,” Lucius said quietly.

 

“You’d set Narcissa aside?” Remus looked stunned. He had to be misunderstanding him.

 

“It took dire magic for Narcissa and I to have Draco, and it left Narcissa sterile. I didn’t know what she’d done until afterwards. If Hermione was able to conceive without the aid of magic, it would be expected for me to set Narcissa aside and legitimize the child. It’s too rare to be ignored. She’d have the stigma of being married to a Death Eater, but at least her child would not be maligned as a bastard.” He shrugged. “It’s an imperfect solution, but one that might become necessary.”

 

Remus was stunned and just managed to nod. That small admission changed everything Remus thought he understood about the other man. He’d never in a million years imagined that pure-blood supremacist Lucius bloody Malfoy would ever willingly entertain marrying a muggleborn witch. For any reason. He’d expected the man to offer to set Hermione and the child up somewhere with money and property to see that they were taken care of. That was all.

 

“Don’t look so shocked, Lupin. Even I can be human from time to time.” Lucius snorted.

 

“I think it’s best that I keep your identity secret from the majority of the Order. I’ll tell Harry, Kingsley, and the Weasleys…but the others don’t need to know. I’ll make sure Mundungus is…handled,” Remus said.

 

“Very well. I’ll return in three days, I imagine Hermione will want to send a letter to her friend and I’ll keep you informed of what’s happening on our side. We’ll set regular meetings so that there’s no risk of messages getting intercepted,” Lucius said and stood.

 

“That’s probably for the best.” Remus agreed. “Give Hermione our best and tell her that I understand her choices. None of us would think any less of her, no matter what she’d had to do. I know that she’s worried I will.”

 

“I’ll tell her.” Lucius gathered the pensieve and memories, before leaving with a quick turn of his heel.

 

Remus just collapsed back into the chair and looked into the fire. Relief at having a source of information and knowing Hermione was alive warred with abject hopelessness for the young woman. No matter who won this war, she would be forever changed from the bright vibrant witch they’d all known. There was no way to live through the things he’d seen without being forever changed. Now he needed to tell Harry.


	6. Fire Nettles

o.o.O.o.o

 

Harry was lying on his bed in the secondary safe-house, a little place called Shell Cottage. It was mid-afternoon, but he just couldn’t convince himself to get up out of bed. Dumbledore, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione were all dead. Tonks and Moody too. All dead because of him. He felt the familiar sting of tears in his eyes and angrily wiped them away, sitting up. Now Remus was off on some dangerous mission, and he could lose him too.

 

He had no idea what to do next, or where to even find this mysterious RAB who had taken the locket. Even if he could find out who they were, he had no idea how to go about finding the other pieces. It was impossible, like a mountain looming over him that he had no way to climb. He looked over to the door as it opened, and then relief hit him hard. Remus stepped in, looking just as fine as he had yesterday.

 

“Remus!” Harry rushed over and hugged the older man tightly.

 

“I’m back and everything’s ok,” he said and returned the hug, stroking Harry’s messy black hair.

 

“What were you doing?” Harry asked, moving back.

 

“Come sit down and I’ll tell you everything,” Remus said and sat down with Harry. “I have some good news, actually…quite a bit of good news. Hermione’s alive and from what I can tell, fairly safe.”

 

“Alive? Where is she? Are we going to get her? How did she get away?” Harry’s eyes widened as the questions poured out of him like a flood.

 

“Easy, cub. She’s being held prisoner by You-Know-Who. She’s not anywhere that we can get to just yet, but she’s managed to talk one of the Death Eaters into switching sides. I met with him last night and he was carrying information from Hermione. He brought a pensieve and several vials of memories for me to go through. I’m convinced that we can trust him, and that he will do his best to keep Hermione safe until she can be rescued,” Remus said.

 

“Who is it?” Harry frowned.

 

“Lucius Malfoy…” Remus held a hand up to forestall the immediate objections. “Do you trust me Harry?”

 

“You know I do…but Malfoy?” Harry looked almost ill. “Why would he help Hermione, let alone us?”

 

“She managed to convince him that helping us was the better bet. You-Know-Who’s been growing more erratic, and I think Lucius is worried about the safety of his family. And we both know Hermione can be very persuasive, when she wants to be,” Remus said.

 

“If he’s able to get messages from her, why can’t he help her escape?” Harry said. It couldn’t be that hard for a wizard like that to get one prisoner out of a cell.  

 

“You-Know-Who set specialized wards that keep her where she is. Getting her out right now is just impossible, but at least she’s safe and is doing the best she can to help us from where she is. The important thing is that she’s alive.” Remus reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be meeting with Malfoy soon, and he’s promised to bring a letter for you from Hermione. I’m sure she can explain everything better.”

 

Harry nodded, feeling a little lighter for the first time in weeks.

 

“Ok, want to come with me while I tell Kingsley and the Weasleys?” Remus asked him.

 

“Yeah, I better…you know how they get about the Malfoys,” Harry said and took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think this will help us win? Really?”

 

“It can’t hurt,” he said and stood. “Come on, let’s see if we can’t get them all on board.”

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Lucius let himself into Hermione’s rooms, mentally exhausted from his meeting with Lupin. Despite her letter and the precautions they’d taken, there had been a real risk of the Order just killing him on sight. He’d left orders for Petal in the event that he was killed, to get Hermione away from this place and hide her from the Dark Lord. At any cost. He hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of her falling into the hands of any of the others, especially Greyback.

 

Her rooms were unnaturally silent and a sense of uneasiness gripped him as he moved quicker across the room and opened the bedroom door. His heart stopped, seeing her lying on the ground by the window. He fell to his knees beside her still form, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but much weaker than it should have been. She’d been fine when he left just hours ago.

 

“PETAL!” he called, as he picked her up and laid her down on the bed, up off the floor.

 

“Master?” The little elf blinked in and then saw Hermione, eyes widening with alarm.

 

“Bring Severus Snape here, at once. Tell him to bring his healers kit. Do not take no for an answer,” Lucius snapped at the little creature, searching frantically for some hidden wound or injury. There was nothing, and he felt more panicked as the minutes ticked by.

 

There was a loud crack as Severus appeared with Petal, and the other man took one look at the bed before rushing over and setting his kit on the bedside table.

 

“What happened?” Snape asked, drawing his wand and casting a simple diagnostic.

 

“I don’t know, I found her lying on the floor. Her pulse is weak and I can’t find any injuries.” Lucius ran a hand through his hair.

 

Severus’ spell produced a shimmering cloud just over her body, different colours swirling in strange patterns through the air. His dark eyes were tracking one thing in particular, a strange clash of colours swirling wildly. A rich royal blue and shimmering gold where shoving at each other.

 

“You told me you weren’t going to use a fertility potion.” Snape swore, and opened his kit, reaching for a vial of black liquid.

 

“I haven’t given her anything.” Lucius frowned.

 

“Well someone did, and it’s interacting badly with a long acting contraceptive potion. Whoever gave her the fertility draught didn’t know she’s has an allergy to fire nettles.” He used a complex wand movement to diffuse the potion into her blood stream. “I only know about the allergy because she had a bad reaction in class once. It’s uncommon, but something I made certain she was aware of because it’s a common ingredient in potions that are marketed to witches.”

 

“So she wouldn’t have taken it herself either.” Lucius closed his eyes, a bad feeling twisting in his gut. “Is there any way to tell how long she’s been dosed with the fertility drug?”

 

“This much damage, at least a month, possible slightly longer,” Severus said, grabbed three more potions in succession and also diffusing them into her.

 

“So before the Dark Lord even ordered us together.” Lucius’ jaw tightened. He’d been planning this since the minute he’d gotten his hands on her. Planning to use her to humiliate him and destroy his family even more. “Bastard was dosing her for weeks before he gave her to me.”

 

“He obviously didn’t realize she’d taken a contraceptive potion, or he’d have purged her system first. This reaction could have killed her if you didn’t find her in time,” Severus said quietly and watched as the potions interacted her with system. The purgative he’d given her cleansing both potions from her bloodstream, giving him a cleaner read of her condition.

 

“Is she going to be alright?” Lucius asked, trying not to look too worried. He couldn’t let Severus know that the witch was actually important to him. He wanted to trust him, to believe that Hermione was right about the man, but he just couldn’t be completely sure.    

 

Severus was quiet for a long time, just watching the diagnostic. There was an expression on his face that was hard to decipher.

 

“Severus…is she going to recover?” he asked and reached out to grab his arm.

 

“Yes, they’ll both be fine,” Severus said quietly, not entirely meeting Lucius’ eyes.

 

“Both?” Lucius dropped his hand away. “If you’re trying to be amusing, I assure you it’s not funny.”

 

“The fertility potion and the contraceptive in essence neutralized each other. Her collapse was because of the long term allergic reaction and the by-products of the neutralization reaction in her body.” Severus shook his head. “She’s pregnant, only a week or so along, but she is.”

 

“That’s not possible…” Lucius shook his head.

 

“Cast the charm yourself, but it’s not going to change the result. Unlikely, yes…but you were in essence having unprotected sex. I don’t think I need to explain how that can end.” Severus gave him a slightly scathing look. With a lazy flick of his wand, he dispelled the diagnostic result and put his wand away.  

 

Lucius could help himself, he lifted his wand and cast a simple pregnancy charm. A small orb of white smoke appeared over her stomach, and in disbelief he watched as it began to pulse with strong golden light. He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling suddenly very lightheaded.

 

“You’re certain they’re both fine?” He finally managed to ask.

 

“I’m not a healer, but from what I can tell everything seems normal. She should wake up soon.” Severus’ tone softened. “What will you do?” he asked.

 

“I’ll have to tell her, and then I need to tell Narcissa.” He felt legitimately ill. Despite his assurances to Remus, he had never actually anticipated this. He’d expected to have her in his bed for a few more months while they worked together to destroy the Dark Lord, and then she’d go back to her friends and they’d likely never discuss this again. He reached out and laid a hand over her stomach, hating the tiny flutter of hope he felt. It shouldn’t have been possible, not so quickly. “You’re certain that this isn’t because of the fertility potion?”

 

“Yes. Because of her allergy, it was functioning more like a mild poison than a fertility potion. Even on its own, it would have been ineffective. She just likely wouldn’t have gotten so unwell.” Severus said. “Lucius, she would have needed regular doses in food or drink. You’ll need to find out how it was given.” He finished packing up his kit.

 

Lucius nodded, aware that the Dark Lord had clearly managed to turn some of his House Elves.

 

“Petal.” He called, and when the little Elf appeared it was clear that she was distressed. “Who told you to put a potion in Miss Granger’s food?” his tone was cold.

 

“Master’s master gave me the bottle, he said it would help the young miss.” Petal wrung her hands. “Petal never meants to hurts her, Petal is a bad elf.”

 

“Do not ever add anything to anyone’s food or drink unless I specifically order you. Should the Dark Lord ask you to do so again, agree and then bring me the potion immediately. If you fail to do so, I will give you clothes, do you understand me?” Lucius said, watching the instant panic hit the little elf. She nodded rapidly.

 

“Yes Master, Petal understands.” She waited for his gruff dismissal and then disappeared.

 

Lucius kept his wand out against his thigh as he watched Severus. His friend had studiously ignored his reprimand of the little Elf, and he appreciated that. Petal had belonged to his mother, and he hated being harsh with her. Even when it was warranted.  

 

“Dumbledore ordered you to kill him, didn’t he?” Lucius asked, taking an uncharacteristic risk. He watched the other wizard with keen eyes, ready to strike if he had to. Severus went completely still, hand twitching slightly as though wanting to reach for his wand but aware that Lucius had the drop on him.

 

“That is a ridiculous assumption,” he said, not moving a muscle.

 

“On the face of it, yes…unless he was dying anyway and wanted to cement the position of his spy,” Lucius said. “I never really believed that you were still on our side, not after Lily. The Dark Lord lost you forever the night he killed her, didn’t he?”

 

“Don’t ask a question I can’t answer, Lucius. Or I’ll ask one of you,” Severus said, black eyes almost begging him to leave it alone. “Keep her quiet for the next day or so, and make sure your elves don’t poison her again.” He nodded curtly and spun on his heel, apparating away.

 

Lucius ran a hand through his hair and tried to sort through a flood of emotion storming away inside of him. Hermione was everything he’d been taught to sneer at and dismiss as a young man. His years at Hogwarts hadn’t changed his opinions, nor had the years since. Over the years, muggle-borns as a whole had impressed him only with their willful ignorance of the magical world and their arrogant assumption that this world should change to suit them. Every concession and favour granted to them had smacked of appeasement, and he’d detested it.

 

Hermione was different and it forced him to accept that perhaps not all witches and wizards like her were out to ruin their world. That just perhaps, he’d been wrong. She had loved her parents, shown loyalty and courage in the face of near certain death, and found a way to work with an enemy to achieve a common goal. She wasn’t so very different from other purebloods he’d known. He could only imagine what she could have accomplished in a world without the war, without the weight of him hanging around her neck. As it was, they were bound together now and their fates linked by the tiny flicker of life inside her. So early on it would be easy to extinguish it, but every fiber of his being rebelled at the mere thought. There was nothing more precious in their world than the life of a child.

 

He would protect them both, however he had to, even if it meant taking her back to the Order. Her eyelids started to flutter and he summoned a small smile.

 

“Welcome back,” he said.

 

“What happened? My head is pounding,” she asked, lifting a hand to touch her temple.

 

“You collapsed, I had to call Severus,” he said and gently helped her sit up in the bed. “It seems the Dark Lord was trying to nudge things along. He’d been dosing you with a standard fertility potion for some time. One of the ingredients was fire nettles.”

 

Hermione paled a little, rather impressive considering she was already looking quite peaky.

 

“But I was on…”

 

“A contraceptive potion, I assumed as much and Severus confirmed that in his scans.” Lucius nodded and took a breath. “He said that the two potions in effect cancelled each other out, and the interaction combined with the fire nettles is what caused your collapse.”

 

“I’ve been having smaller blackouts, I thought it was just spacing out because I was stuck in here. I didn’t realize it was anything serious, or I would have said something,” she said quietly.

 

“He also discovered something else.” Lucius had no idea how she was going to take this. “On his scan, it showed that you were pregnant.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “That can’t be right.” She sat up a bit more. She was feeling pretty out of it, but his words were forcing her back to clarity, fast. “You said that it would be next to impossible for you to…that there was no way our magic could be compatible.”

 

“It seems I was wrong,” Lucius said and grimaced a little. “I checked myself and you are pregnant. Just a little over a week, according to Severus.”

 

Hermione closed her eyes, and Lucius watched as she gripped the blanket in a white-knuckle grip for a long minute before releasing it. She took a few deep breaths and opened her eyes, looking at him.

 

“What do we do from here?” she asked, voice steady and calm.

 

“In a few days, once you’re feeling better, I will inform the Dark Lord that we were successful and ask that he allow me to move you to a less stressful environment and hopefully have the monitoring spell removed,” Lucius said. “Where I take you is up to you though.” His respect for her grew by rapid leaps as he watched her leash her emotions to deal with the situation in front of her. It was truly impressive for someone this young and relatively inexperienced to own such exquisite control.

 

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

 

“I could return you to the Order…if you gave me your word to keep out of sight and safe.” It nearly gutted him to say the words, but it was an option. “Or I can take you somewhere safe where we can plot the Dark Lord’s destruction together. I could then start helping you claim revenge against the men who murdered your parents.” He knew which option he’d choose, if he were in her shoes.

 

Hermione drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs, and resting her chin on her knee. Her gaze drifted over to the window, looking out at the dark sky.

 

“I want to kill them myself.” Her voice was just barely above a whisper, but there was a dark steely conviction in her words. “I want to watch them die, like they made me watch my parents.” Her eyes shifted back to look at him.

 

“It is your revenge, but I promise I will help you claim it,” Lucius said with a nod.

 

“Then I’ll stay with you,” she said, letting out a shaky breath. “Can you stay tonight?” she asked, her stony mask melting away to reveal the vulnerable young witch underneath.

 

Lucius shifted to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Of course.” He pressed a kiss to her curls, and just offered her the comfort she needed. They could discuss his meeting with Lupin later, right now she was infinitely more important.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione woke at some point in the deepest part of the night and carefully slipped out of bed. Lucius was still sleeping, worry creasing the space between his eyebrows, and she knew that worry was because of her. She padded on silent feet to the bathroom and the light flickered to life with the wave of her hand. More and more now, the face staring back at her was becoming a stranger. Even three months ago, she’d never have believed the situation she was currently in. None of this had been part of her plan. Not even close.

 

As strange as things were, she didn’t question the decision she’d made. There hadn’t been any question about what option she was going to take in all honesty. Going back to the Order was the safest option, the sensible choice. In the moment, she’d been shocked that he’d been willing to entertain it. It was also one thing that she just couldn’t do.

 

There was a dark, bottomless pit inside of her and from its depths a primal voice was screaming for vengeance. She’d flirted with darkness before, with her curse on Marietta and the plan to obliviate her parents…but the time for innocent explorations was gone. She needed to avenge her family, more than anything else. She wanted every single one of them to pay in blood for what they’d done. She wanted her face to be the last thing they ever saw in this life. Blood for blood. Pain for pain. Death for death.

 

Lucius understood that, in a way that none of the Order possibly could. They would look at her and see the girl she’d been. Not the witch that Voldemort had made her into. She wanted to be there as Lucius tore down Voldemort’s organization, piece by bloody piece. Maybe, when it was finally over the screaming in her head would stop, and her ghosts could rest.

 

She looked down at her stomach, trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was pregnant. She was only seventeen, well…eighteen if she factored in her rather excessive time-turner use back in third year. Her examination in June, by the Unspeakable from the Ministry, had revealed a full nine months added to her age, far more than there should have been. Her time-turner permit had been revoked, with a lifetime ban from being allowed access to them again. She shook her head, trying to force her attention back to the matter at hand.

 

Sweet Circe, how was she going to do this? A baby. She wasn’t even done school, yet. Tears stung at her eyes, and a wash of anger hit her with force. Damn Voldemort to the darkest pits of hell. She hoped that wherever they sent him, he’d spend eternity being tortured for the things he’d done. She put a hand over her mouth to try and smother the sobs threatening to break free. The door opened and she felt strong arms wrap around her from behind. He pressed a kiss to her neck and then turned her, holding her against his chest.

 

“Shhhh, I’ve got you,” he said quietly. His one hand stroked gently along her back.

 

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his chest, letting go of the tears she’d been holding onto. After a few minutes, he picked her up and carried her out to sit on the couch. He cradled her in his arms and let her head rest on his shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry…” she whispered.

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Lucius said. “You didn’t ask for any of this and given everything that’s happened…you’ve more than earned a break down.”

 

“You didn’t ask for this either.” She shifted a little so she could see his face.

 

“I took the Dark Mark, Hermione. I can’t claim ignorance of what he was either. I knew all too well.” He sighed. “I may not have asked for this, but I put myself under his power.”

 

Hermione nodded and just laid her head back down against his shoulder.

 

“What will happen, after we kill him for good?” she asked, a bit afraid of the answer. He was married for Merlin’s sake! He had a family and a life that a teenage mistress and illegitimate child would hardly fit into it. Just the thought of it made her feel sick. “Never mind…I don’t think I’m ready to know.”

 

“No matter what happens, I will take care of you, Hermione.” He gently nudged her to sit up so he could meet her eyes. “I’m far from perfect, but I look after what’s mine.”

 

“I don’t belong to you, or anyone else for that matter.” Hermione’s eyebrows rose with a certain amount of indignation.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that, but you are my responsibility now. And not one I resent having,” he cut her off. “We didn’t choose this, but I don’t regret what we’ve shared together. Do you?”

 

Hermione felt her head shake. She should regret it, but as his thumb stroked the outside of her knee she couldn’t lie to him. He was the only good thing to happen since her parents had been murdered. Without him, she was fairly sure that she’d have lost her mind completely.  

 

“No, I don’t regret it,” she said and leaned in to brush her lips against his, unsure if he’d return it now that their ‘assignment’ had been accomplished. When he pulled her closer and returned the kiss, some of the tension gripping her eased. When their lips parted, she rested her forehead against his. “What about Narcissa?” She bit her lip.

 

“I need to tell her and Draco, before we tell the Dark Lord.” He sighed and shook his head a little. “I owe them both that.”

 

“I’m sorry he’s making you hurt them,” Hermione said softly.

 

“Such a sweet witch.” He kissed her temple. “It’s still very early, we should try and get a little more sleep.”

 

Hermione nodded and rested her hand on his chest. “Thank you, for being here.”

 

“I will try to be here when you need me,” Lucius said and scooped her up to carry her back to bed for a few more hours of sleep.


End file.
